A Matter of Memory
by Jade V. MacGregor
Summary: When a new threat to Underland emerges, it is up to the Hatter to retrieve the Champion, restore her memories, and prepare her for the coming battle. A/H pairing plus some action/adventure thrown in.
1. Chapter 1

**Authors Note: I am in no way an accomplished fanfiction author, but I just had to get this out of my head and onto paper (digital paper, that is). I woke up a few weeks ago with the beginnings of this story floating in my mind from a dream. The story, incomplete, yet teasing me with flashes of plot, has been haunting me ever since. I hope a few of you will enjoy it. It will be slow going as my schedule doesn't allow much time for writing, but it will get there eventually.**

**First chapter is short, but it'll pick up...I promise!**

**Also, I love reviews! Hopefully some of you will like this story enough as it goes along to shoot me a review :)  
**

** ~JVM**

**PS: I own nothing – all belongs to Disney and Tim Burton. Everything except my own personal fantasies of Johnny Depp's Mad Hatter, that is. :-)**

xXx

"You could stay." The Mad Hatter said, hopefully. Despite his desire to the contrary, he already knew the answer. It had not been foretold in the Oraculum that the Champion would stay. She would return to her own home, back to the place she called London. The White Queen Mirana, sensing the Hatter's growing attachment, had warned him the day before.

"What an idea, a crazy, mad wonderful idea." Alice paused, smiling, considering the possibility, before turning back to the Hatter. "But I can't, there are questions I have to answer, things I have to do."

Alice was torn. She wanted to stay. So much of her felt at home here in Underland, so much more a part of the world than she ever had in London. But she had a family, she had responsibilities to attend to. And most importantly, she had finally found her muchness. Her father would have been so proud of this muchness, boldness, confidence. Alice wanted a chance to continue the dream of his business, to live up to his great name. She had a fantastic idea for a new trade route and had the vision to carry it out.

"I'll be back again before you know it!" Happiness sparkled in her eyes as she spoke to the Hatter. He was the best friend she had ever had, and she would make her way back to him soon. And what grand stories she would have for him! Adventure, comedy, daring...maybe even romance.

"You wont remember me…" Hatter closed his eyes and spoke softly.

"Of course I will, how could I forget?" Alice smiled at the Hatter's worry. Underland had given her so much; she owed it to the land and its extraordinary people to hold them in her heart and in her memories. She had forgotten the last time, but she had been such a child then. Her mother and other adults had spent so many years insisting that her memories were nothing but dreams, fantasies concocted by an odd child. But now...this time would be different. She was grown now, she knew her own mind, and had faith in it. No one would be able to coerce her into betraying Underland this time.

"Hatter, why is a raven like a writing desk?" Alice reached for the Hatter's hand and squeezed gently before releasing it again.

"I haven't the slightest idea." The Hatter's breath caught at the contact. If Alice had noticed his reaction, she hadn't let on. _If only Alice was staying,_ Hatter mused. _She was so beautiful, so kind, so Alice_.

Hatter watched as she brought the vile to her lips and drank it down. He smiled at her one last time, knowing that which she did not. Hatter knew that the blood of the Jabberwocky would strip her of all memories of Underland, and of him. He also knew at that moment, his eyes would be not his habitual green, or the yellow of anger or agitation, but blue. The midnight blue of sorrow.

Tarrant Hightopp, known to all as the Mad Hatter, had suffered much in his life. His trade had poisoned his mind and left him teetering for years on the edge of sanity. The destruction of his clan and the reign of the Red Queen had simply finished what the mercury had started, pushing him over the edge into madness. Just when he felt as though he had finally found someone who understood him, accepted him, she would be lost as well. Yet, he dared speak no more to the Champion. He had no right to keep her here and away from her home.

As Alice faded quietly into the aether, the Hatter turned away. He took a deep breath and looked around him. The Red Queen and her army had been defeated, the Jabberwocky was dead, and the White Queen would rein in Underland once again. His friends were free and rejoicing the coming peace. Even though his heart ached, all was not lost. Far from it, in fact. This was just the beginning.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Thanks to those who are tuning in for chapter 2! I realize the first chapter was awfully short and didn't go anywhere, but I needed a little time to set a bit of background. A little more actual plot starts to emerge in this chapter, with more to come! **

Alice Kingsley was sure that she had knocked a screw loose somehow, back during that nasty fall she had taken in a rabbit hole almost three years ago. That has to be when it happened. Before the rabbit hole she was an average, proper, young lady. Well, almost proper. There was her propensity to dream, and to refuse a corset and stockings. But that was no matter.

Ever since she had opened her eyes, climbed out of that rabbit hole, and made her way back to Hamish, she had felt like a different person. When she had arrived back at the gazebo, Hamish was still waiting on one knee for her return. When he had first proposed, she had panicked. Unsure of what to do, she had simply run. She had to get out of there, clear her head, needed time to think.

But now...now Alice was more than she was. Sometimes, by her family's and by society's standards, a bit too much. She didn't know any other way to explain it.

Alice had declined Hamish's offer, and instead of consigning herself to a loveless marriage and a life of boredom and decorum, sought a business meeting with Hamish's father. She had talked her way into a role in her father's former company, earned a spot in their voyage to China, and proven herself enough that she was now officially the senior advisor to Lord Ascot.

In the past three years, she had been to China, India, and Africa. Alice had met amazing people, experienced life at sea, been exposed to countless new cultures. Alice smiled at her memories. Climbing the Great Wall, drinking Chai tea in India after trekking through the jungle on top of an elephant. Alice had seen the great Pyramids and the Sphinx, heard its riddle. The company's profits had grown exponentially and they had established themselves as a shipping giant. Her father's business was not only successful, but truly great.

Yet, Alice always had a feeling that something was missing. She was haunted by dreams of a great monster towering over her, laughing mechanically, as she clutched a sword. The dragon spoke to her, taunting her. Just as dreams of a white rabbit and tea parties repeated in her childhood, this nightmare came to her over and over again. The dream was so real; she awoke with the feel of the sword in her hands, the feel of the beast's rancid breath hot on her face. Surely she was mad. If only her father was still here, he would have told her that all the best people were.

xXx

Alice had made her choice to go back, three years ago now. _Had it really been that long? _Hatter sighed deeply. At times, the he felt as though it had been so much longer, this time he endured without her. Although he had spent only a few days with her during her last visit, she was the best friend he had ever had. The first woman he had ever felt something for. Not quite love, but a certain warmth, a connection. _Perhaps, had we been given enough time, the feelings could have grown, bigger and bigger, and she could have felt them, too. Ah, yes! That's it. Time. That's all they had needed, the bloody bastard, keeping me at tea for a year for a simple misunderstanding, then denying me my..." _Hatter gasped for air, realizing he had been holding his breath during his brief slip. 

_I must keep my focus! _While Alice was around, she was always the one to bring him back to reality during his breaks into madness. Keeping his head in the game had been so much harder after she left.

_No._ Hatter shook his head. _I canna be thinkin' tha way about the lass. She's the champion o' Underland. 'Tis my duty to bring her home, naught else. I'm but a hatter, and a mad one at that. _

As much as the Hatter fought the thought (_oh! Have I made a rhyme?), _part of him kept holding on to the fact that in her three years back in Otherland, she had yet to find a suitor that she had accepted. _No right, proper Alice suitors to be found up here, _he thought. _And no right, proper Alice homes here, either. All that traveling she had done, maybe her home is back with all of us in Underland. _

As he watched her from a distance, the Hatter smiled. As much as it had hurt him to watch her disappear into nothing, letting her go had been the right thing. What an amazing girl she had been to make that decision! To leave the place where she was a champion and return to her own world, to strike out on her own!

In the three years since her last trip to Underland, Alice had grown into a woman, and a successful one at that. Unbeknownst to the Champion, Hatter had been making trips aboveground periodically all the while she was gone, waiting, watching. By letting Absolem guide him to where she was, Hatter had traveled through countless looking glasses and rabbit holes to wherever she was. He had thought at first that he was merely looking out for her, would be there to offer assistance should she ever need it. It was much later that he stopped fooling himself and realized she wouldn't need any assistance from him, and he instead sat back. A still-smitten Hatter had watched with pride as his Alice – _whoops, not his –_ just Alice had taken her father's place in the business with Lord Ascot, participated in the trip to China, and come back a right, proper businessman, er, woman. She had not lost her muchness, nay. If anything, it had grown yet again. Strong, capable, confident, beautiful.

Hatter almost wished he didn't have take her from this world. Almost. His heart clenched as he replayed Mirana, the White Queen's, words in his mind:

"_Three is a fortuitous number, both for good and for evil; the time is drawing nearer. We still have plenty of time, but Iracebeth is massing forces. But something feels...wrong."_ _Mirana had struggled to explain what she could feel was coming. "I can sense it, Hatter. She's got something big planned. And she's developed some strong magic if she's able to hide it from both me and the Oraculum. Whatever it is, she Tis moving closer and closer in, and will try once again to take the throne. We must have our Champion at hand when we reach the third anniversary of the Jabberwocky's slaying." _

After his conversation with Mirana a few days' before, the Hatter had known what he had to do, and had only three months to do it. He must convince Alice to come back to Underland, and prepare her for battle. Alice had so little time to ready herself for Frabjous Day the last time she was in Underland; most of it was spent reclaiming her missing Muchness. It was the power of that muchness and the Vorpal sword that had earned her a victory. _Aye, and just a bit of assistance from me. _Hatter thought with pride of his stabbing the Jabberwocky to distract him from Alice, just enough time for her to scramble aside. This time they didn't even know what the looming threat was, nor how to beat it. The Champion must be fully trained and prepared for anything this time.

Hatter had mused over the best course of action for days. Alice had no memory of Underland, of using the Vorpal sword, of who she really was. She was no mere Alice, even an Alice who had sailed the seas. She was Alice, Champion of Underland. How would he convince her to come fight an undefined evil, in a land through a looking glass, for people she no longer remembered?

He had thought first to try to talk sense into Alice. She's an Otherlander, so surely just telling her that it was her duty to return with him, train for a great battle, and save a great world would work. No. She doesn't remember - that would serve nothing save frighten her. Nivens? Could he lead her down the rabbit hole once again? No, it wasn't guaranteed to work – what if she wasn't going to be near the rabbit hole soon enough?

Finally, he had it! Eureka! The perfect plan. Alice was such as successful trader in her own land, he would convincer to open trade with his own. How much time would that take? A few days? A few weeks? He only had three months to get her to Underland and prepared for the battle. Hatter had decided to use his newly-patched relationship with Time to the benefit of everyone. After a lengthy explanation of his plan over tea and scones, Time had agreed that he owed Hatter a favor due to slightly overreacting the last time they got into a tiff. Not to mention that the very fate of Underland may well rest in the balance. Thus, for as long as Hatter remained in Otherland convincing Alice to return, Time would hold steady. Iracebeth's plot would draw no closer to being enacted. The very second Alice crossed back, however, the clock would once again start ticking. Time may stop for the future of Underland, but he could not do so forever.

_No more puttin' this off, ye great craven fool. _Hatter took a deep breath, straightened his hat, and stepped forward, out onto the street toward Alice's house.

xXx

"Alice! You've got a gentleman caller, dearie." Neddy, the Kingsley maid, winked at Alice. In Neddy's opinion, a right, fine woman like Alice had been unattached far too long. "Says 'e's 'ere to talk about the shipping business. Comes from a land far away, 'e does. 'Ere to talk about using your ships to open trade between 'ere and there."

"Alright, Neddy. I'll be right down. Please take him to the study." Alice looked up from the map of the world she had been poring over. She was on the hunt for her next big adventure, the next place she could expand the route for her and Ascot's company. _Perhaps this man will have something to offer, she thought. After all, I'm still one impossible thing short today and it is well past breakfast! _

When Alice opens the door, a man in a dark suit was awaiting her. He rose from the couch as soon as she came into the room, taking a few short, almost uncertain steps, toward her. "I understand you have a business proposition for me. If that is the case, it is very nice to meet you, Mr..."

Alice offers her hand to the man before her, making a quick assessment. He was of taller-than-average height in a dull, black suit, holding a top hat between his left arm and torso. His hesitant gate belied a fit, frame; muscular, but not overly so. His red hair was closely cropped and he was clean-shaven, dark shadows under his eyes and in the hollows of his cheeks were set off by his pale skin. _Nothing remarkable at all, _she thought, slightly disappointed. _Yet another banal business meeting to suffer through in preparation for my next journey. _

The man bowed deeply, then took her hand and kissed it gently. When their eyes met, he broke into a great, infectious grin. Alice drew in a sharp breath. _ Oh, but his eyes! What an extraordinarily bright green! _She imagined she could almost see his excitement right there in that look.

"Hightopp, lass. Tarrant Hightopp."


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Apologies for both the delay in posting the next chapter, and the speed at which this is moving. I know, I know - everyone wants some Alice/Hatter fluff! - and I do, too. I'm just still working on laying the foundation for the plot and the story, and wanted to get at least a bit posted today. But trust me, next chapter - definitely some A/H fluff. Perhaps even a kiss! **

**Thanks to all who have favorited or alerted this story! It makes me feel wonderful! Reviews are also welcome and appreciated! :-)  
**

xXx

"Hightopp, lass. Tarrant Hightopp."

_What an odd name_, Alice thinks to herself of her visitor. _Not Scots at all, but he definitely has a thick brogue._ Alice always had a soft spot for a man with a deep voice and strong accent.

"I hate to be the one to break it to you, good sir, but Scotland has long been on our trading route! In fact, the Orkney Isles were the first locations my father and Lord Ascot ventured to when they started the business. The very first trip brought back a large load of Orkney Twill for sale in London."

Tarrant laughed at her comment, not a delicate chuckle, but a full, genuine laugh that verged on frantic. As quickly as the burst of laughter had erupted from him, it was gone again, he appeared just a bit embarrassed at the outburst, quickly covering his mouth with his hands.

"Apologies, my dear." This time when he spoke, there was not sign of a Scots accent, but only a slight lisp. "My accent does get a bit carried away with itself when I'm nervous. Or worried. Or upset, pensive, excited, overjoyed..." He paused, shook his head, then continued. "I've had a talk with it time and again, I just can't get it to listen!"

_What a delightful man!_ Alice thought, smiling broadly.

"I don't hail from Scotland, my dear Alice, despite the similarities in the accent. But a land far from here." Tarrant paused, unsure if he had overstepped his bounds with the Champion already by referring to her so informally. It was dreadfully hard maintaining this sense of decorum with her. His mind was racing, he was so happy to be speaking with her once again, but he realized his plan was not thought out quite as it should. What land did he come from? What good or ware is he going to get her to ship?

"My country has rich resources in...um...tea!" he exclaimed. "Yes, tea! We have the most magnificent, marvelous, majestic teas. My queen has sent me here to London to open exports of our tea to your land." Tarrant was quite proud of himself, inventing that story so quickly. This was great fun - just like pretending! Drawing himself up just a little straighter, he smiled once again at Alice.

"Then, Mister Hightopp, where are you from, exactly ? You must be very important there, indeed, to have been sent directly by your Queen. Tell me about these teas you would like to ship here." Sitting down on the small couch perpendicular to the one Tarrant had been seated in, Alice gestured for him to take his seat. Before he could stop himself, Tarrant walked closer to her, and sat right next to her.

Realizing his mistake, he stiffened slightly. _Careful, there. Not too friendly wit' the lass yet. Must remember she doona remember ye yet, ye madman, _Tarrant scolded himself.

Alice, however, didn't seem to mind the proximity. She crossed her legs daintily, and settled back into the cushions, preparing for a fruitful discussion with her new business contact.

The two talked at great lengths about the types of teas his country would like to export, where they would like to send it to, beyond England. Alice marveled at the number of different tea blends he spoke of. _Mr. Hightopp's_ _land must have the most wonderful tea parties! So many flavors and varieties to choose from. _

"Well, Mr. Hightopp, I do believe that it could be a profitable venture for us to do business together. However, you've yet to actually tell me what land it is that you come from." Alice paused to smile at her new-found business associate. "I do believe that is terribly important when dealing with directing ships, don't you think so?"

Tarrant had been mulling this over in his mind during their conversation about tea and was thankfully prepared to respond this time. "Ah, lass," he began, accent thick again. "The land I hail from is called Underland." While Tarrant was not quite sure how he was going to go about helping Alice restore her memories of Underland and her place as Champion there, he thought that the first step would at least be to speak of it to her. Slowly, as to let her mind process and hopefully resurrect some long-buried memories, concealed from her since drinking the blood of the Jabberwocky. The name, then details of its characteristics, then he would begin to speak of its inhabitants, her old friends.

"Where is that? I've not heard of it before? Is it on the Continent?"

"Nay, my dear Alice. 'Tis no' anywhere near where your ships have travelled before. You could say that it is under the world from here." Tarrant tried to keep from giggling to himself.

"Oh, like the land down under? Is it near Australia? I do believe a few of my crew are from Australia and could navigate the route there quite easily."

"No, my dear, but you've got the general idea."

xXx

After the continuing with discussions such as quantities of tea to be shipped, flavors to trade initially, and with Tarrant agreeing to meet later with the company's main navigator to identify the safest route to Underland, discussions were finally wrapped up for the day.

"Mr. Hightopp," Alice began.

"Alice, please. Do call me Tarrant," he corrected, daring to place a friendly hand upon her knee, a gesture only accepted in society between people very familiar to one another. Tarrant felt triumphant when Alice did not pull away from his touch, much as she did not mind his sitting right next to her for the business dealings. _That's my Alice, what muchness she shows! Ignoring what's proper, and trusting the feeling inside that I'm familiar to her. _

"Alright, Tarrant," Alice graced him with a smile and was met with his great, broad grin, revealingthe gap between his front teeth. "While I am a full partner with Lord Ascot in this compay, we have always had an equal decision making relationship, and a project as large as this one would require his input. I would like very much for you and I to meet with him before signing a contract. However, he's out of town for two weeks. Does your schedule permit such a delay? Could we meet again in a fortnight?

Perfect. Tarrant couldn't have asked for a more fortuitous delay. This would give him more time with Alice. And the more time he had, the more opportunity to begin triggering her memories.

"I'd be delighted to come back then to meet with Lord Ascot. You have spoken so highly of him, it would be an honor to work with him, as well." Now. Now was his chance. Despite the butterflies in his stomach at the prospect of asking to call on this Alice, the one who didn't know him, he spoke up. "But...would you care ta take tea with me tomorrow? I hope I'm not bein' overly bold, but I have so enjoyed yer company and, well, it appears tha' perhaps, forgive me if I am reading a bit too much into your actions, but you have seemed to have enjoyed my company this afternoon, as well, and..." He was almost tripping over his words, his accent thick once again.

"Tarrant." Alice echoed his action earlier in the day, and placed her hand upon his knee, interrupting his ramblings. Brown eyes met hopeful green ones. "Certainly, I'd be delighted."


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Thanks to Manniness and Ngoc Chau for my first reviews! Manniness, thanks for your comments about keeping Hatter strong - I like the idea that he wouldn't totally fall apart at the drop of a hat. With my version of him, if he can survive the dungeon of the Red Queen, he can wait a while for Alice - but not forever :)**

**And thanks to those who have stuck with me. A bit more fluff in this chapter, but not quite there. The plot is still progressing a bit slow, but I promise chapter 5 is where it'll start getting good. **

**As always, I greatly appreciate everyone taking the time to read this! I also love reviews...**

**xXx**

The days passed far too quickly for the Hatter. He decided that, despite Alice not remembering who he was, the time he was spending with her was ever so joyous. They were enjoying tea and walks together daily. They would stroll through her family's garden and she would regale him with stories from her travels.

One their second day, he had held out his arm to escort her, and had reveled in her accepting his invitation. They had walked companionably down a path to a bench beneath a great oak tree, where they had spread out a blanket and shared a picnic of finger sandwiches and small cakes. They had laughed and flirted, and she had told him of the first time she had been on a ship and her first journey.

On her way to China, she had been given quite the time by the sailors, but held her own. _I don't know where I got the strength to stand up to them, to prove to them I was just as capable of being on a trading ship, of negotiating trades as the males, but I did, _she had told him. But he had known. Tarrant knew that muchness that aided her in China had been earned by the Vorpal blade and her victory over the Jabberwocky. That is what she had come back for – to make her father proud.

By the time they had finished talking and sharing stories that day, the light was fading and they had to hurry back before night fell. But oh, how close she had walked with him! Her side had been matched to his, ever so softly. He could feel the warmth of her body and remembered the softness of her hands when he helped her up from their picnic blanket.

Each subsequent meeting was better than the first, and she granted him greater and greater liberties with her person. By the seventh day, he had even been bold enough to grasp her hand in his, fingers intertwined, even if only for a minute before they cleared the woods and came back into the clearing within sight of her house and the servants, prone to gossip, within its walls.

This time together was as if they were being given the opportunity to meet for the first time, a third time. _Does that make any sense? How does one meet for the first time the third time? It is no matter. Alice being here, with me, laughing with me, gifting me with smiles and small touches to the hand, the arm, even once on my shoulder, that is all that matters. _

The first time the Hatter met Alice, she was just a wee girl, full of curiosity and wonder. A bit precocious, too. The second, she was a young woman, but had forgotten her muchness. So much time during that last trip had been spent trying to get her to regain that muchness, much as the time now was spent trying to get her to remember without telling her she needed to remember.

This process of getting her to remember without betraying that he remembered her was not progressing at all, but necessary to continue in endeavor. Though she still possessed her muchness now, Hatter firmly believed the best way for her to return to Underland willingly would be to remember on her own. Scaring her off by trying to push her too hard, to make her remember, would accomplish nothing, perhaps even drive her away. _Remember the old adage; you can lead a rockinghorsefly to water, but you canna make it drink. _

Hatter was immensely grateful that Time's cousin, Magic, was of great assistance during his efforts. Apparently the truce between Tarrant and Time had extended to Time's kin, as well. Despite the lack of paper currency in Underland, Magic had provided English pounds, enough for Hatter to stay at a local Inn as well as other necessities during this time courting Alice.

Hatter suddenly froze stiff inside the carriage carrying him to his daily meetings with Alice. _When had this stopped being about helping her remember and started being courting? _He wondered. _My __feelings have gotten far too out of hand. _

Tarrant sighed deeply. The past week with Alice were the best he had lived since the destruction of his clan. After so many years of pain, of having no one to call family, he and Alice had fallen into such comfortable friendship, a bond forming between them much as there had been in the past. But this time it was he who had found his muchness, at least when it came to Alice. She was the right, proper Alice size the entire time, and perhaps, if things continued as they were, she would agree to be his.

He had cut his hair short, donned Otherland clothes, and was acting in Otherland style to fit in. Or at least as close to Otherland actions as he could. He was assimilating into her world, as dull as it was, and relishing ever moment with her. As long as he could continue to spend his days with her, this would work indefinitely.

_That's it! We'll just stay here! No more danger, no great beasts needing to be slayed, no Red Queens or Knaves, no danger lurking, hidden, hoping to defeat the Champion. I'll open a hat shop in London. _He giggled, delighted with his plan. _ I'll make bowlers and top hats and bonnets, hats for ladies to wear to the races, to tea parties, to shop, to dine, to...STOP! No! _Tarrant shook his head, bringing himself back to reality.

_Enough of this dream, ye fool. Ye've forgotten why you are here, what she's forgotten. Before Lord Ascot returns and complicates her return to Underland, ye've got to get back to your mission. She must remember! And if you canna make her remember, convince her ta come with ye. Lure her with a grand adventure. Alice must reprise her role as Champion for the sake of Underland. You must convince her to come along with him before Ascot returns, lest Ascot attempt to make the trip with you. _

Tarrant quickly planned the first of his true attempts to help Alice remember. Under the ruse of sharing with her a grand legend from his country, he would tell the story of her. The story of the Champion of Underland and her triumph. If hearing of her own feats didn't trigger at least a bit of memory, he didn't know what would.

xXx

Alice dressed in her favorite blue dress, half wondering again where the dress had come from. She couldn't remember purchasing it, but it was certainly her favorite. Something about it comforted her, made her feel at home.

_What will Tarrant and I do today? If he has nothing in particular planned,_ _perhaps we can take the carriage and ride into London to share the hustle of the city. _She imagined they would have a grand time sitting in a tea house, watching the passers by and commenting upon them. _Look at that woman! What a large head she has! And that man – a giant chin! Even portraits of them could be caricatures! _

She was having such a wonderful time with Tarrant. Unlike the stuffy aristocracy with whom she had been raised, he was so free with his smiles, joking with her often, and even seemed to appreciate her flights of fancy and imagination.

_And what a handsome man he is, too. _Alice thought. _His eyes are such a mystery, seemingly changing with his mood._ The more time they spent together, the more he seemed to come around. Finding excuses to visit day after day. Alice would find herself waiting in rapt anticipation for the time he would arrive each day, hoping his hand would linger on her arm, that their eyes would meet just a little longer than was proper, praying he would sneak a kiss soon.

He had not asked formally to court her, nor given any outward indication this was anything more than the strengthening of their business relationship, but oh, how she hoped that he shared the feelings that she had for him. There was no awkwardness between them, no formality, and her skin tingled every time her body made contact with his.

At night, she had even been haunted by dreams of him, or her imagination's version of him. In her dreams, Tarrant had long, wild hair, dressed in a rainbow of color, and travelled with her across an amazing land. The flowers spoke to them as they passed, a great dog-like beast befriended them, and one dream had even found them having tea with a rabbit and a mouse! In one dream, she was tiny, barely more than a few inches tall, and he shared the most curious poem with her, his voice gruff and accent thick. In it, a boy had slayed some kind of monster and taken its head.

Perhaps, instead of waiting for Lord Ascot, Alice would travel back to Tarrant's land with him on the ship that had carried him to England. _Yes! Wouldn't that be grand? And adventure, a new land, without the burdens of business. And more time with him. More time for us to learn each other. _

xXx

"Alice, my dear. Shall we take a ride today? I've found two swift horses that we can race. It'll be a most delightful." Tarrant practically beamed with excitement and held both her hands in his.

_Oh, this would be grand! "_But what shall we race for, Tarrant? It can't be a true competition without a prize." Alice smiled back at him, closing the distance between them slightly.

Tarrant broke into an undignified giggle, a bit high-pitched, but full of joy. "If you win, I shall tell you a grand tale of bravery and the triumph of good over evil, the favorite legend of my land." Tarrant paused, appreciating how close they were and how excited she seemed. "However, if I win, you tell me a story. Any story of your choosing, be it a tale you were told as a child, or one from your imagination."

"That's perfect, Tarrant! I have been having the most curious dreams lately. I do believe I could spin a fantastic tale for you. And I shall, of course, win." Alice dashed off toward the stables, where Tarrant had sent the horses to be saddled, laughing, her golden hair blowing in the breeze behind her.

Tarrant took off after her, unwilling to cede her even this preliminary victory. "My dear Alice, do not get your hopes too high. For I plan to win and tell you my tale. And I will compete most...vigorously."


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: My deepest apologies for failing to update sooner! It has been one heck of a week, and I've been doing my best just to make it through! Thanks to all who have stuck with me, though. Hope you enjoy this chapter. It is a bit short, but I wanted to at least get something posted today. More yet to come! Please read/review!  
**

**And THANK YOU for the reviews, story alerts and favorite story alerts. I love them all!  
**

**~JVM**

_Tarrant took off after her, unwilling to cede her this preliminary victory. "My dear Alice, do not get your hopes too high. For I plan to win and for you to tell me a grand tale. I will compete most...vigorously."_

_xXx_

Alice laughed like mad, running towards the stables with Tarrant chasing after her. Just a few more meters and she'd make it! _Vigorously... _Alice slowed slightly, as deja vu, or something like it, niggling at her mind. Why does that sound so familiar? Why was it with Tarrant she kept having these moments where things felt so comfortable, like they were the best of friends, yet...she had just met him.

"I win! The Ha...uh, Tarrant triumphs over the Champion of Kingsley estate!" Tarrant called, as he just snuck past her to the barn, not noticing her delay. Whipping back around, he grabbed Alice about the waist and picked her up, twirling in the air, around and around. "That is but a taste of what is to come, my dear! Just wait until we compete on horseback. The horses and I have had a long discussion and my steed will run swiftly as the very wind to carry me to victory."

Alice found herself laughing again with Tarrant, alternating between giggles and deep, belly laughs until her sides hurt. When Tarrant finally put her back on the ground, their laughs suddenly died and a calm silence descended on the pair. He was still holding her waist, they were so close, eyes locked. _His eyes are darkening, _Alice thought to herself. _They are practically hunter green now, what emotion is it that is causing this? Not the joy that usually brightens them. Could this be the kiss I've been waiting for? _

Alice moved ever-so-slightly in, closer to Tarrant, searching his face for the smallest queue that he did not wish her to continue the embrace, gentle as it was, ready to break away and pretend it meant nothing. Instead, he mimicked her movements, inching closer to her, his chest rising with a deep breath. "Alice..." his hand reach out to her face, pausing as it hovered, just brushing her cheek.

Just as Alice turned her face in to his palm, the moment was lost. Tarrant cleared this throat and stepped back slightly, a blush covering his face and neck. "Well, we must be going if we are to start that race."

Tarrant cursed himself silently at his lack of control. He'll never get Alice to return to Underland if he continues this way. He finally had a plan and needed to stick with it.

"Which brave steed shall be yours for the race, my dear?" Tarrant had tied two sleek horses to the barn door, one a bay with black feet and a great white stripe from forehead to nose. The other was a great black, narry a mark on its body, a feathering of fur at his feet. "The Bay is called Baron, for his noble bearing, the black, Dubh, meaning Dark Warrior."

Alice paused no more than a moment before making her choice. "Dubh; if you shall be competing 'vigorously', then I shall need a great warrior to be of my assistance.

Tarrant smiled and bowed at the waist. "As you wish, my lady." He grabbed the reins, and led them to the field gate. Inwardly, he was beaming. _She chose the warrior's steed. That's my Alice. The Alice, Champion of Underland._

Once they were both mounted, Tarrant atop Baron and Alice with Dubh, Tarrant leaned down to whisper in Baron's ear. "Remember now, friend. This must look like a true competition." He patted his neck, and Baron snorted, shaking his head up and down. Tarrant looked towards Alice, watching her settle herself on Dubh's back, pleased that he could still talk with animals in Alice's world.

"Alright. Remember, first one to make it to that tree beyond the rise will be regaled the the loser's best story!" Tarrant pointed to the large shade-tree barely visible in the distance. "I'll count to three and we'll be off and soon I will be relaxing and you will have to entertain me for the afternoon." He laughed and lined Baron up on the line drawn in the dirt, Baran prancing in anticipation of the run.

"Not likely, Tarrant. It will be as the victor! My father once told me he dreamed six impossible things before breakfast. This does not even count as an impossible thing." Alice laughed and lined Dubh up beside Baron, leaning down over his neck and grasping the reins in her hand, her competitive nature practically buzzing with excitement.

"Six impossible things before breakfast, aye? That is an excellent practice. However, just at the moment, you really might want to focus on the race." Tarrant smiled as he echoed a similar conversation he and Alice had three years before. Only this time, there was no Jabberwocky to slay.

"Ready?" Both horses, sensing the energy of their riders, snorted and danced. "One...two...THREE!"

They were off, racing across the fields. Alice's golden hair flew behind her, whipping in the wind as she leaned forward, urging Dubh faster and faster. Tarrant and Baron ran beside her, his hat amazingly remaining on his head, despite the speed. Each competitor snuck glances beside them, watching the progress of their rival. As they crested the hill, the tree now only a minute's run out, Tarrant watched, delighted that Alice was pulling away from him. No need for subterfuge now, he realized, she would win genuinely. And he would be able to tell the story that he hoped would bring back her memory. Her story.

Alice pulled Dubh to a stop just moments before Tarrant reached the same spot. "I won!" She cheered, raising her arms in victory. Panting, from exertion and adrenaline, she collapsed onto the ground under the shade of the great oak.

"Now what story will you tell me, Tarrant? The history of your country? A myth? A child's tale?"

Tarrant settled himself down on the ground next to Alice. This was it. This was his chance to trigger her memories, remind her of herself. She would remember, he knew it. She would remember Underland, her friends, her adventures. His Alice would remember _him._ She would return with him to Underland and help fight the evil that Mirana sensed coming from the Red Queen's castle, and become once again the Champion.

Tarrant's face grew serious and when he spoke, his voice was thick with emotion, accent strong. His eyes were once again that deep, hunter green, and Alice could feel his tension. "Ah, lass. I'll be sharin' a great legend in my land. The tale o' the Champion o' Underland. The tale o' the victory o' the Champion o'er the Bluddy Behg Hid and her great monster the Jabberwocky."


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's note: Yes! It's true! Two chapters in one day! I know I won't have much time to update next week, as I'm finishing prepping for my 1st dan test in taekwondo, so I wanted to get this chapter out of my head! If you enjoy, please review and let me know.  
**

**Thanks again for the reviews, alerts, and favorites. You guys make my day! :) **

**~JVM**

Tarrant felt guilty manipulating Alice's emotions like this, but he had no choice. He had meant to come upland to talk her into coming back with him, using her love of trade for the initial introduction and to sustain the relationship as long as it took for her to remember. Of course, the remembering didn't seem to be coming along. Mostly because he had allowed himself to be distracted by his feelings for her. Seeing her again after three years, and in his persona of her world allowed him the chance with her he had never had in Underland. There, he had been the Mad Hatter, something strange, an inhabitant of a fantasy world not her own. Oh, but here...here he was just a man and she was just a woman, and he hadn't been able to stop himself from seeing if perhaps those feelings he held for her could be returned when he wasn't that oddity from Underland.

No matter now. Now, he had remembered his mission. His first priority now was Underland and returning its Champion. Maybe Alice wold remember when she was back in Underland. If not...well, even without her memories of Underland, she could still be trained. She could still fight. She had last time, hadn't she? He'd just have to convince her to do it. Somehow. The fate of Underland depended on it.

xXx

Tarrant took a deep breath, calming himself and gathering his thoughts before starting the tale.

"There was once a beautiful young woman who traveled to my land. When she arrived, she was very confused and lost, for she could not find her way through the great forest, and found herself mesmerized by the boldly colored flowers and winding passages through the landscape. She had been there once before, as a wee child, and Underland missed her terribly, but she didn't remember anything from her last trip. All her friends had been waiting for her to return for a very long time. Nivens, the white rabbit, had shown her the way back, but was no where to be found once she arrived.

"Luckily, Chessur, the Cheshire cat, found her quickly and guided her to Absolem. You see, Absolem is the wisest creature in all of Underland, despite being a bit insulting. He had a nasty habit of calling her a 'stupid girl', he did. It was most rude of him." Tarrant shook off the anger of Absolem treating his Alice with such disrespect and continued.

"Well, Absolem questioned whether this young woman was the right girl! All Underlandians were waiting for the girl to return to save their land from a great, evil queen, the Bludy Begh Hed, the Red Queen. For it was foretold by our magical Oraculum that on Frabjous Day, the Champion would slay the evil creature released by the Red Queen and free Underland."

"When the woman had been there as a child, she had made great friends, and these friends had been waiting oh so long for her to return. The Tweedles, Tweedledee and Tweedledum, lived in their own house on the other side of the forest, but Thackery, Mallyumkin, and most of all, the Mad Hatter, waited for her. The Mad Hatter had tried to kill Time waiting for his A- er, his best friend, this girl to return, and Time dinna appreciate that at all!" Alice giggled at this literal interpretation of killing time.

"Oh, you think this is funny, do ye?" Hatter questioned, his tone lightening a bit with a smile. "Och, no. This was far from funny! Time took his anger out on the poor Hatter by keeping his pocket watch perpetually at tea time. It was 6pm for _years!_ All the while, the Hatter drank tea and ate scones, waiting for her to return."

"When she finally returned, the Hatter was overjoyed! He jumped out of his seat and ran right over the tea service to get her, grabbed her tiny hand, for she had drank the pishsalver, which had shrunk her to a terribly small size, but not yet eating any upelkuchen to grow her back to her right, proper size. No matter, she was most tiny, but the Hatter still recognized her, he would have recognized her anywhere."

"But the Hatter's heart was soon broken, for the young woman didn't remember him! But of course, she didn't remember anything from her adventures when she was a girl, so the Hatter didn't take it personally. What hurt him most of all, though, was that she had lost her muchness, the essence of the bold, daring, and inquisitive girl that he remembered so fondly."

"Mally, Thackery, Chessur, and the Hatter couldn't enjoy their reunion with the woman for long. The Red Queen's wretched Knave of Hearts was after her. He wanted to capture her and keep her from destroying the Queen's beast. The Hatter knew he had to act fast, and get her to the safety of the White Queen. Mirana, the White Queen was the rightful queen of Underland, and she would be able to help the young woman. Since she was yet so small, the Hatter placed her on the brim of his top hat and set off towards Marmoreal." Tarrant paused again to look at Alice. "A_nyone can travel_ by horse or rail, you know. But the absolute best way to travel is by _hat." __His broad smile was met by unease from Alice. This story was starting to make her feel most odd, almost deja vu, but not quite. Mostly she felt a wave a tension wash over her._

Despite Alice's odd look, Tarrant continued his story. "I, uh." Tarrant coughed, covering his mistake. "The Mad Hatter placed the woman carefully atop his hat, and travelled with her through the Tugley Woods, a comfortable silence settling between them. When they reached the burned-out remains of a village, the Hatter began to recite to her the prophecy of what she must fulfill."

Tarrant took a deep breath and looked again at Alice, looking more uncomfortable than ever. Why was it that she was reacting such? _Yes! Can it be? Could any of this be ringing a bell with her? Is her unconscious fighting it's way back to the surface? _ Continuing on, Tarrant's voice grew deeper to a gruff tone, accent thicker than she'd ever heard it.

"'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves  
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;  
All mimsy were the borogoves,  
And the mome raths outgrabe.

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!  
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!  
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun  
The frumious Bandersnatch!"

He took his vorpal sword in hand:  
Long time the manxome foe he sought—  
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,  
And stood awhile in thought.

And as in uffish thought he stood,  
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,  
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,  
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! and through and through  
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!  
He left it dead, and with its head  
He went galumphing back."

"'Tis about you, you know." Alice's eyes shot to his, panic and confusion evident in her face. "That's what the Hatter told the young woman perched atop his hat. But she had lost her muchness, and she denied the truth. She replied that she didn't slay. You don't slay? He practically spat the words at her. Do you have any idea what's been done here? The death and destruction wrought by the Red Queen? She destroyed my whole clan...burned in their homes by the Jabber..."

"STOP!" Alice cried. "No more! I...I don't like this game any more." Alice scrambled to her feet and backed away from Tarrant. "Let's do something else, other than tell stories." Thoughts were swirling in Alice's head, crazy ideas she had heard this before. It was too much like her dream. But how did he know that? Why did she feel such fear at the mention of the Jabberwocky beast?

_It is working. She's remembering. But she's not quite there. My Alice would never have been frightened by his story. My Alice, with all her muchness, would have enjoyed this story. And by all evidence, my Alice is the one I've been with this past week. Bold, daring, conquering the seas and going where other women had never before gone. She's fighting the memories. Better not push her farther, ye Madman. _

Tarrant quickly changed tack – the remembering would occur, with time. He'd started to trigger them, but wouldn't continue to push with her panicking. He'd have to convince her to come with him and hope that being in Underland triggered the rest of the memories.

"'Tis alright, love. No more need for this silly game. I'm sorry I upset you, Alice" Tarrant's easy grin and relaxed demeanor did much to calm her fears, and the lisp in her name made her smile. _I must be going mad. Why would a simple tale, a legend from his land scare me so much? _

"This is quite silly, Tarrant. No need to apologize. I've just...I've been having the oddest dreams lately, and I'm tired from losing sleep."

Alice and Tarrant moved back toward the shade of the tree, hand in hand. While Tarrant treasured this time with his Alice and hated to spoil it, he knew he must continue to move on. He must not get distracted again.

"Alice, my dear," he began, "there's something I must discuss with you. Something I need to ask you. I received an urgent message from home yesterday. My queen has great need of me back home, and has recalled me short of my business being completed here." Disappointment hit Alice like a slap to the face. _No, he can't be leaving me. Not yet. Just a little more time together. _

"As much as I have enjoyed my time here with you, I fear this is a summons I cannot ignore. My queen has a critical task for me to fulfill." Tarrant squeezed Alice's hand.

"You...this time has meant so much to me. I hate to leave you, my dearest. But, I...I have something to confess," he looked away, a bit sheepish. "I'm not quite who you think I am. It's probably best I'm returning home." Tarrant registered Alice's look of hurt and felt triumphant. _She doesn't want me to leave! Callooh! Callay! "_I've tried my best to contain myself while I was here, but, in reality, I'm not nearly as normal as I've been acting." In an almost conspiratorial tone, he whispered, "I'm quite mad, you know," followed by a true hatter smile, eyes bright, the endearing gap between his teeth showing.

_What did he say? Mad?_ The feeling of uneasiness came over Alice once again; that niggling at the back of her mind that something felt familiar about him had returned. She felt so strongly for him, as she gazed into those green eyes. But just as fast as the moment came upon her, it passed, leaving her mind slightly muddled.

"Come with me, lass," Tarrant says, taking advantage of her confused silence. His accent was thick, his voice soft.

"What? No, I can't...Ascot isn't back, I'd have to tell him..." Tarrant pressed on, didn't let her continue.

He moved in closer, running his hands up her arms, almost touching her body with his own. "Come with me, lass." he said again. "I would be most honored if you would accompany me." Tarrant pulled her into a gentle hug.

All Alice could think about was the feeling of his strong arms around her, warmth of the embrace, the tightness in her chest. "Please," he breathed into her hair. Alice surrendered and relaxed against him. Her head was nestled against his shoulder and she breathed in his scent; how odd, she had never noticed it before, but he smelled of tea.

Feeling Alice's body become supple against his, Tarrant drew away from her slightly, only enough to gaze down at her. Again, Alice was taken by the piercing green eyes, how she could read his emotions in his eyes. _Hunter green again, but something else is there. Uncertainty. He's afraid I won't go with him_.

"Yes," she breathed, unsure of why she agreed, but feeling that it was the right choice. Alice had never so much as had a crush that she could remember. While other girls had dreamed of marriage and family, Alice had focused on the business. She had never allowed herself to be caught up in the trials of courtship, and no one before Tarrant had ever made her feel this way before. She knew if she wasn't careful, she could fall in love with him. He was barely more than a stranger, but she being in his arms felt more right than anything else ever had.

"I should like very much to kiss you." Tarrant moved slowly in once again, drawing her impossibly close. Two sets of eyes met, chocolate brown and hunter green. Alice closed her eyes and inclined her face up to meet his. "My darling Alice," he whispered, lips brushing against hers softly, testing, their breaths mingling sweetly.

Suddenly there was nothing in the world but this man holding her in his arms. Everything felt so right, she felt complete.

Then, the world was spinning, dizziness overcame her, and in her mind's eye, she saw a flash. There's a man before her, his bright orange hair long and curly, wildly exploding from beneath a ratty old tophat. He wore, mismatched clothes of a thousand colors and he was grinning madly at her. Alice struggled for thought. Wait, this man was Tarrant, but somehow not. His eyes, the same eyes, but not the same man she knew.

Alice gasped and tried to pull away, Tarrant's arms holding her close. "What is it, love?" Tarrant was suddenly scared. _She didn't like my kiss! Damn you, ye madman. You've never done this before. Try again. She feels for you, you know she does. _

"Nothing, I..." Alice paused. "I'm sorry...it's nothing...something felt..." Tarrant gathered her close for another kiss, this time less hesitant, his arms stronger around her. Alice's lips parted as Tarrant took the kiss deeper, and her arms found their way around the back of his neck. She felt as though she was flying, it felt so liberating, so right, so exciting to have his lips against hers. His mouth slanted against hers again and again, so soft and tender. He explored her mouth slowly, tongue teasing her own. Tarrant drew her bottom lip between his teeth and grazed the tender flesh until her heard her soft moan.

Then she was falling, falling through a rabbit hole spinning into the darkness. She saw faces, familiar to her, yet still unknown. A woman in a crown wearing all white, a dormouse with a hatpin sword in her hand, two rabbits, one white and the other brown, a grinning cat, a baying hound, and a great hairy mountain of a beast. And Hatter. She could see him standing beside her, claymore in hand, ready to fight with her.

"Hatter!" she cried. Alice pulled away, stumbling back from Tarrant. "No. I'm sorry, I can't." She was so confused, something wasn't right, but yet it was. "This isn't right...there's someone else. From long ago...I'm remembering things...I can't make sense of it. I don't know what's going on...I think...I've gone mad." Tears welled in her eyes. It broke Tarrant's heart to see her so, but he couldn't contain his excitement. She was remembering! Her lips were red and swollen from his kisses, and she had said his name. The name not that he had courted her under, but as she had known him! Hope was starting blooming in his chest. Could it be? Could she finally be coming back to him?

Hatter smiled broadly at her. "All the best people are." He moved back towards her, watching the confusion still evident in her eyes as her pulled her into his arms again.

"Why is a raven like a writing desk?" he practically whispered to her, afraid of what her response would be.

It was then she knew. Tarrant. The Hatter. _Her _Hatter. He had come for her. How long had it been for him? She had broken her promise to him and had forgotten. But he hadn't forgotten her. "I don't know. Why is a raven like a writing desk, Hatter?"

"I haven't the slightest idea," he said, laughing, triumphant. Alice was back! _His _Alice was back. _His Alice. Yes, my Alice. The only one who accepts me, the only one I..._

With a flourish, and thanks to a little Underland magic, he pulled his hat, the real Hatter hat, from behind his back, bowed deeply, and placed it upon his head. "So, my Champion. You have come back to me...um...us...um...Underland. What I mean is, it be appearin' you are rememberin' yer prior life, the life in Underland. Which, I was hoping you'd return to with me, we all miss you terribly, and well, there's something I've just realized that I must tell you..."

"Hatter!" she called, laughing, throwing herself back into his arms for another kiss.

"I'm ok," he squeaked, bringing his hands to either side of her face. His heart was about to burst. He couldn't wait any longer. A soft as silk kiss brushed her lips. He pulled her into a fierce hug, never wanting to let go and whispered in her ear, "I love you, Alice."


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Most sincere apologies to all for my heinous delay in posting! Life has unfortunately interfered, coupled with a bit of writer's block. Now, I've got the story mapped out, things are calmer, and hopefully I shall return to a regular writing schedule, Callou, Callay!**

**As always, I hope everyone enjoys the (albeit short) chapter. Reviews very welcome and every so much appreciated. Cheers!**

**XXX**

_"Why is a raven like a writing desk?" he practically whispered to her, afraid of what her response would be._

_It was then she knew. Tarrant. The Hatter. Her Hatter. He had come for her. How long had it been for him? She had broken her promise to him and had forgotten. But he hadn't forgotten her. "I don't know. Why is a raven like a writing desk, Hatter?"_

_"I haven't the slightest idea," he said, laughing, triumphant. Alice was back! His Alice was back. His Alice. Yes, my Alice. The only one who accepts me, the only one I..._

_With a flourish, and thanks to a little Underland magic, he pulled his hat, the real Hatter hat, from behind his back, bowed deeply, and placed it upon his head. "So, my Champion. You have come back to me...um...us...um...Underland. What I mean is, it be appearin' you are rememberin' yer prior life, the life in Underland. Which, I was hoping you'd return to with me, we all miss you terribly, and well, there's something I've just realized that I must tell you..."_

_"Hatter!" she called, laughing, throwing herself back into his arms for another kiss._

_"I'm ok," he squeaked, bringing his hands to either side of her face. His heart was about to burst. He couldn't wait any longer. A soft as silk kiss brushed her lips. He pulled her into a fierce hug, never wanting to let go and whispered in her ear, "I love you, Alice."_

XXX

Alice stilled, a cold rush of panic washed over her at his words. _Love? He loves me? Do I love him back? I don't even know my own mind. All those memories, I'm...so confused still...oh, but his kisses. Those kisses that lift me up, those arms that I feel so at home in. He makes me laugh. I can be myself with him. But is that love? _

Tarrant watched the emotions play over Alice's face: shock, confusion, happiness, contentment, but then back to confusion, and his heart shattered. _She doesn't love ye back, ye madman. _

He'd waited three years without her, his best friend, confidant, and he thought, soul mate. The one woman he'd ever felt for. He knew now that he had always loved her, he was just too mad to recognize the feelings for what they were. _ And now ye've scared her off with your overzealous declarations. The poor girl has just recovered memories she thought were naught but dreams, and your slurvish actions have scared her to death! You've lost your chance with her. Let her go. Let her go and see if you can salvage the friendship. _

"Tarrant...Hatter...I, uh, I..." Alice stuttered, unsure of what to say. _Where's your muchness now, Alice? _

Hatter shook his head, releasing Alice from his arms. He fought the tears welling in his eyes and forced his traitorous chin to stop its quivering. "Oh, my. I've gotten myself a little carried away, dear Alice." Tarrant turned away and, walking back towards the horses, adjusted the tack and readied them for the journey back to the barn. "The madness, you know. It comes on quickly sometimes and I say the oddest things," he lied. "And I must apologize for man-handling you the way that I did. Although that shock to the system you endured must have triggered your memories, at least!" He giggled and swung back onto Baron's back.

"It's ok, love. Ah, dear. Um, Alice." Tarrant looked away once again. _Why is this so hard when I look at her, he wonders. _ "This is all quite a shock for you, I'll not be expectin' anythin' from ye, lass. I just...I got caught up in the moment." His throat burned with the lies, but he forced a grin. "I do still hope ye'll return wit' me ta Underland. Queen Mirana and the rest would so _like," _he forced the foul word from his mouth, "to see ye once again. Just come a wee time, and ye'll be back 'ere wit yer company afore anyone kens yer gone."

_How can I not go? This whole life, this world that I've just remembered? _"Yes, Tarrant. I'll still go."

The pair rode back slowly to the estate, an uncomfortable silence between them, unknowingly contemplating each other. Alice spent the time wondering about the strange, but fascinating man riding beside her, and anticipating what adventure this trip may hold for her.

Tarrant, on the other hand, was wondering only what define love in Alice's land. He made her happy, that much was clear. They laughed together, shared stories and hopes and dreams. They had a connection neither could deny. The power of those kisses attested to that. Then what was he missing? What else could there be to Upperland love?

When they returned to Alice's home, she quickly made the necessary preparations for her journey. The staff was made aware she'd be out of town for an extended tour of Mr. Hightopp's land, and she drafted a short note to Lord Ascot, informing him she was investigating an intriguing trade possibilty.

"I'll return as soon as I can, and hopefully I will have secured a most profitable client in the Queen of Underland and her nascent tea trade. My greatest apologies for acting in such haste and failing to secure your approval before embarking, but Time was of the essence, as Mr. Hightopp had been recalled home most suddenly," she had written, borrowing Tarrant's manufactured story. "Please give my regards to Mother and Margaret, as I had not even Time to bid them adieu. Kindest Regards, Alice."

Alice bid Neddy goodbye at the door, carrying only a small satchel of dresses. "Neddy, I am delighted at the prospect of an entirely new wardrobe for this trip! As Tarrant has explained, fashions are quite different in his country, so I will be taking only enough clothing for the ship, and the Queen will be having a new one made for me by her seamstress. Isn't it exciting?" If Neddy thought that was odd, she didn't comment. Alice was notorious for hating clothes shopping, and even more so for her distaste of personal tailors and seamstresses, always pushing petticoats, stockings, and corsets on her.

Tarrant, always sure to give Alice the proper distance from himself, of course, lest she discover he really did still have feelings for her, guided her down to the end of the estate, and behind some very tall shrubbery. Removing the bottle of pishsalver from his jacket pocket and the hand-held looking glass from her bag, he held them out to her. "Drink half of this, Alice, and you shall shrink to a just-right-for looking-glass-travel size."

Realizing his mistake, he quickly snatched the looking glass back. "Whoops, it just won't do to have you shrinking with the glass in your hand, now will it? It'll fall and break into a thousand pieces!" Giddy with anticipation of bringing his Alice back to Underland, even if she wasn't yet actually _his_, Tarrant's whole body nearly burst from the joy.

He placed the looking glass on the ground, and watched her drink half the cool, blue liquid, carefully taking the remaining half from her before the shrinking began. "Ah, yes. And the new and improved formula will allow us to shrink objects – like our clothes and your satchel – that we're holding when the process begins, so hold tight to your dress, lass! Wouldn't want ye to end up bare in your birthday suit when your finally arrive back in Underland!"

As Alice slowly began to grow smaller and smaller, Tarrant felt his heart ache terribly, despite his grin. The last time he had seen her drink a potion, she had disappeared for three years and forgotten him, again. He quickly downed the last of the draught and grabbed her satchel as he felt the ground growing closer and closer and the shrubs now loomed over them as if they were the mighty Jabberwock itself.

"Now, just step forward onto the mirror, close your eyes, and think of Underland, lass. The looking glass will know where to take us – straight to Marmoreal."

Unsure and a little scared, Alice unconsciously reached for Tarrant's hand, grasping it tightly. The Hatter's breath caught, but tried to make no outward reaction to her touch, as much as his body screamed to pull her into an embrace.

As they stepped forward and began to fall, Tarrant's mind cleared of all but the wee lass clutching his hand. _I'll win her love one day, _he vowed to himself. _I've loved her for years; if I have to wait until the day I die to hear her say the words back to me, it will still be worth it._


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: Alice is back in Underland again, and you'll briefly see some old friends, and the threat to Underland will be revealed. **

**Please read and review! ****Hope you enjoy this chapter!  
**

XXX

_"Now, just step forward onto the mirror, close your eyes, and think of Underland, lass. The looking glass will know where to take us – straight to Marmoreal."_

_Unsure and a little scared, Alice unconsciously reached for Tarrant's hand, grasping it tightly. The Hatter's breath caught, but tried to make no outward reaction to her touch, as much as his body screamed to pull her into an embrace._

_As they stepped forward and began to fall, Tarrant's mind cleared of all but the wee lass clutching his hand. I'll win her love one day, he vowed to himself. I've loved her for years; if I have to wait until the day I die to hear her say the words back to me, it will still be worth it._

XXX

Before she knew what had happened, Alice found herself tumbling onto a cool stone floor, her hand still clinging to the Hatter's. The impact knocked the breath out of her, and she groaned softly from the impact of her back on the hard surface. Her head was spinning and she kept her eyes squeezed shut until she was sure she could stand with success.

Next to her, Tarrant was cherishing the last moments of their joined hands knowing it would surely be some time before he would feel such loveliness again. Not all was lost, he must remind himself. For he returned Underland's Champion to its lands and would reunite friends with their wayward companion. In the seconds before he relinquished her hand back to her control, a wave of guilt washed over him.

_Ye should ha' told her. Ye should ha' told her the Champion was needed again and this time, even the Oraculum doesna guarantee her success. _But no, had he told her, she might not have returned, and with Iracebeth's power as yet undefined, only the true Champion could prevail. He'd just have to live with that guilt and pray she accepts the mantle of the Champion once again when the truth is laid before her.

When the comfort and warmth of the Hatter's hand was lost, Alice forced herself to open her eyes, and she found herself greeted by five sets of eyes, circled about, leaning over her. Confusion set in momentarily until the memories that were still so freshly returned to her mind could match names with the bodies crowded around, watching in the tiny travelers in anticipation.

"Queen Mirana! Your majesty!" Alice beamed up at the White Queen, whose grace and elegance radiated from her very bearing. "Thackery! Chessur...Nivens...and Mally!" Her gaze traveled from friend to friend, hardly containing the excitement of seeing them again. As with Tarrant's kiss, flashes of memories of each of them danced forth from the depths of her mind. Thackery, throwing scones and heaven knows what else at her during tea parties. Chessur, enigmatically floating and turning in the air, appearing and reappearing his smile, his tail, his eyes. Nivens, twitching nervously, tapping his pocket watch, drawing her away from her surprise engagement party and down the rabbit hole. And Mally, brave and full of bravado.

"It is so good to see you once again," Mirana grasped Alice's tiny hand in her own and gently raised her to her feet, Tarrant already standing. Despite the joyous occasion, the Hatter was quiet, eyes as blue as the day Alice had last left. No one noticed the concerned look flicker across Mirana's face, who quickly regained her composure. "Well, we simply must get you back to your proper size before tea."

Tarrant's eyes, which had been intently studying his own shoes, suddenly shot up, meeting Mirana's. His words to Alice echoed through his mind. _It's a good size...it's a great size...it's a __right proper Alice size. __Mirana tried not to grimace_ at the pain apparent in Tarrant as she handed Alice a bit of upelkuchen.

"Yer LATE!" Thackery boomed at her, already seated at a nearby tea table, and tossing a scone just past her ear. Suddenly distracted by the spoon in his hand, he reached up and tugged on one of his ears, "Spoon." _At least some things never change, _Alice thought.

Chessur, floating, turning, smiling wickedly, meandered through the air over to the table and took his spot at the far end, just to the right of what was obviously Mirana's royal seat. Nivens, panicked that she had hurt herself during her fall, fussed after her and inspected her arms for bruises before darting under the table and popping up in the seat next to Chessur. Mally, movements deliberate and stiff sniffed once while giving Alice a once-over inspection. "About time." She hopped up onto the chair to Mirana's left with a _humph_. That's odd, Alice mused. She's being rather standoffish, upset. Almos jealous. But what is there to be jealous of?

Mirana in all her grace, practically floated to the head of the table, curious to watch where Alice and Hatter would seat themselves. There were several empty seats left at the other end of the table, but Tarrant moved to the far end, physically separating himself from the remainder of the group to sulk. _But where will Alice sit? _Mirana watched the indecision flicker over Alice's features, who paused only slightly before settling herself next to the man who had brought her back to Underland. Tarrant, still stinging from Alice's rejection, shoulders slumped in dejection, colors dull, wringing the napkin in his hands, and trying his best to enjoy his tea, with no success.

Tea was an energetic event, questions abounding about Alice's life, her voyages on the sea, what the world was like above, and what magnificent things she had seen and the wonderous places she had traveled since being away. She laughed, lost in the the joy of this Time and living fully in the moment, oblivious to the depression of the Hatter next to her. Only when Mirana questioned how Tarrant had helped her to regain her memories, did Alice pause. Blushing slightly, she turned to glance back at him and softly placed her hand on his arm. She looked to him for guidance and comfort without even realizing she did so.

Alice was several minutes into recounting the past two weeks for the party when the realization that she was still touching Tarrant dawned. Her eyes widened and she jerked her hand back, trying to hide the action by motioning with that hand. _Oh, poor Tarrant! He does not seem at all happy. I shouldn't be touching him. _Her heart sank at that realization. What of that connection they had shared before her memories had returned? Had she been the only one to feel the flutter when they were close? Had he not felt the fireworks in their kiss? _But he said he loved me! No, Alice. He didn't mean it. He admitted as much to you when he apologized for his outburst. It was nothing but the madness. _

Alice covered her shaken emotions and the tears welling up, threatening to spill over onto her cheeks, with a brief spell of contrived coughs. Why was she so upset that he didn't love her? All the excitement of being back, Alice rationalized. _I'm still reeling from the remembering, off center, I just need time to clear my head and this silly feeling will pass._

When the tea service was completed, the table was cleared out to make room for the numerous visitors arriving at the castle. The Tweedles, the Bandersnatch, a line of castle staff and a gaggle of courtiers loyal to Marmoreal all began jostling about trying to get a chance to welcome Alice back.

Mirana watched Alice maneuver to stay close to Tarrant, despite the crowd, always drawn back to his side. She smiled at the instinctively choreographed scene eyes cutting back and forth between the both of them, observing the unspoken communication between them. Whenever one visitor ventured a little too close to her or Alice became overwhelmed with the attention, Tarrant would subtly place himself between Alice and the other person. Momentarily lifted from his depression by temper, he distracted the perceived threat while Alice moved on to the next person. But Alice moved only far enough away to create separation, never so far that she was beyond arms-length from her protector Whether they recognized it or not, they were never far apart.

_Oh, the poor dear. Not only must she return to this land to fight for it once again, she hasn't even realized what – or who – she's fighting for. _Mirana wondered how long it would take Alice to realize her feelings for Tarrant. Alice had surely withheld parts of the story from her tale, for nothing that Alice had shared would account for the Hatter's sadness, nor the bond they so obviously shared. Why, it almost appeared that his heart had been broken.

Taking advantage of the numerous guests and everyone's preoccupation with the return of The Alice, Mirana quietly slipped away to her alchemy chamber. Pushing aside the ingredients she had gathered earlier to prepare another batch of pishsalver, she pulled a white marble bowl from a cabinet. A dash of gryphon's feathers, two drops of geko's tears, and a full cup of unicorn whisper soon swirled together to reveal Tarrant holding Alice tight in his arms, leaning down into a kiss.

Mirana momentarily felt guilty for intruding on her dear friends' private moment, but her sovereign sensibilities forced her to pry. If Alice was to defeat Iracebeth again, she needed to know the full story. As she watched the scene play out, her heart broke for Tarrant. Wasn't it clear to him that Alice just needed some time to adjust to remembering?

Gliding back to the gathering and into the center of the room, Mirana clapped her hands ever-so-softly. "Everyone, I am so pleased that you have come to greet Alice and celebrate her return. However, she and I have important business to attend, and I fear I must borrow her from your presence. Since she'll be staying for a while, there will be plenty of time to catch up and hear her harrowing tales of the sea. For now, I'll be holding a private audience with The Alice."

Mirana's frog footmen led the crowd away, and just as the room emptied and she prepared to escort Alice to her private suite, she noticed Tarrant, loitering uncomfortably by the door. "Come along now, Tarrant. You mustn't miss this conversation, either. I have a feeling Alice will be requiring your services shortly."

XXX

Once in the Mirana's private suite, the mood quickly changed and the conversation turned serious.

"Now that you have recovered all of your memories, Alice -" Mirana found herself interrupted by Alice.

"Oh, but all of them haven't returned yet, your Majesty. I – I can't remember everything. Certain events are like a dream I can't quite recall. Things – and people – feel familiar, but they are more like deja vu. I remember you and Tarrant – everyone at the tea party, in fact – but the others that greeted me are unclear. So many events are fuzzy, too. Even the memory of fighting the Jabberwocky feels as if I am watching it through a thick fog." Alice struggled for the words, frustrated and confused.

Mirana reached for Alice's hand and squeezed it gently. "They'll return in Time, Alice. Just be patient. And listen to your heart. Your mind will open when your heart does." Glancing quickly at Tarrant, who was sitting with his arms crossed over his chest, she smiled. "Words do not always speak the truth. In the end it will be actions that reveal what is needed."

Mirana's statement confused Alice. How would actions reveal the memories she needed?

"While I wish that this could be nothing but a joyous reunion, the fact is that Tarrant was not completely honest with you, my dear. While I did wish for you to return, more than that, I needed you. I needed The Alice, Champion of Underland." Mirana was quick, but thorough with her explanation.

"Iracebeth had rid herself of her Knave of Hearts...Stayne...his body was found by my guards on the outskirts of the the Marmoreal grounds, mutilated badly, hand severed from the body." Mirana shivered, deeply affected by the violence her sister was capable of before continuing. "It appears that she has been able to raise a small band of followers. In our world, as in yours, three is a mystical number, and Iracebeth is counting upon that fact. She is utilizing the third anniversary of the Jabberwocky's death to harness its power and call forth an even greater evil."

"Wha – what evil could be greater than the Jabberwocky, Mirana?" Alice's voice wavered with confusion and with fear.

Taking a deep breath, Mirana rolled out the Oraculum. It showed Alice training with Tarrant in the castle yard, burdened with weapons and armour, then...nothing. Blackness.

"The monster is nothing more than a great abyss in the Oraculum. This beast will be more dangerous than the Jabberwocky, as every place it conquers, all life will be destroyed. Iracebeth, through the dark arts, will summon this thing and there are no clues as to how it can be defeated. Following the rule of three, you will have three tries to defeat it, and if you cannot, all life in Marmoreal will be forfeit."

Alice looked up from the Oraculum with tears in her eyes.

"We need you to be our Champion once again. Time has started once again and the clock is ticking. Three months is all you have."

Her hand was shaking, but there was a look of determination on her face. She would not let this world be destroyed. She would not allow her friends to die. Her gaze met Tarrant's, then Mirana's. If it was her fate to face this monster, she would do it. She had triumphed before, and she could do it again.

"I'll do it. I'll bear the Vorpal sword again and don the armour of the Champion." Tarrant looked at her and saw that his Alice had returned. "I'll shoulder the great responsibility that accompanies the title of Champion." In that moment, he knew it was none other than Absolutely Alice, sailor, trader, businesswoman, rebel, that stood before him, by whose hands Underland will rise again or fall.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: THANK YOU to all who have read, favorited, and/or reviewed this story. I don't think these characters will leave me with peace in my mind until the story has been written, the beast slayed, and Alice and Tarrant are finally together. But...boy, do reviews and alerts make me more motivated :-) !**

**This chapter moves the plot along a bit, but chapters 10 and 11 should be where the real action starts happening. **

**Cheers and happy reading, **

**~JVM**

xXx

"_I'll do it. I'll bear the Vorpal sword again and don the armour of the Champion." Tarrant looked at her and saw that his Alice had returned. "I'll shoulder the great responsibility that accompanies the title of Champion." In that moment, he knew it was none other than Absolutely Alice, sailor, trader, businesswoman, rebel, that stood before him, by whose hands Underland will rise again or fall._

XXX

Alice. Wee little Alice who came to visit him when she was just a lassie. Alice, the Champion of Underland and slayer of the Jabberwocky. The Alice. She has been all of these things in her life, but _his _Alice? Would she ever be something so grand, so perfect? She makes him whole, quiets the voices in his head, helps him to focus, calms his rages. How she can accomplish so much with nothing more than her nearness, Tarrant Hightopp, last of his clan, and by all accounts the maddest of them all when there had been an 'all', pondered the enchanting and amazing Alice.

Beyond even her sweetness and her humor, the way she had always sensed his moods and given him the comfort or companionship he had needed, beyond even the way she had reconnected with him above when his true self had been nothing but the shadow of a memory, he was most proud of her muchness. While she was a mere slip of a girl by stature, still so young, she possessed a resiliency that astounded him; Alice had both the physical strength and tenacity to make every one of her dreams come true. What had truly humbled him, however, is that she had recognized her duty and was willing to fight. For his land. For his friends. Those things which she had now adopted as her own.

She was terrified, that much Tarrant could recognize. He saw the same look of fear in Alice's eyes this day as he had when he had recited to her the tale of the Jabberwocky. However, this time her muchness was very much still in tact. His heart, already so full of love for her, grew even larger with pride.

While Tarrant pondered the wonder that was the Alice, she was settling into the chamber Mirana had prepared for her in Marmoreal. It was a grand suite, and when the sun shone through the large windows, it was almost blindingly bright. The bed was draped with white silk, the drapes a sturdy white linen. The chairs, couch, and settee were all of white damask. The only color in the room came from the dark wood of the bed frame and dresser, and the blue throw pillows, a nod to Alice's need for color. She had neither the White Queen's purity of spirit or preference for white. No, Alice was a free spirit, bold, commanding, and certainly had no aversion to violence if that was the only way to rectify a situation.

She didn't truly understand her own reaction, but for some reason, even though she just had remembered Underland, in her heart, she recognized her ties to them. Though she no longer felt as if she was the same Champion who slayed the Jabberwocky three years before, she knew it was her duty to protect this land. She felt almost as though it was a part of her. It was a welcomed her home like an old friend more so even than England had upon her return from China.

She wanted Tarrant to be proud of her. Perhaps, if she was brave enough, he would reconsider his feelings for her. He had kissed her, after all. And she had enjoyed it immensely, more than she cared to admit to her stubborn mind. The feelings swirling about inside of her, causing her chest to ache at his departure and her stomach to flutter when he sat too close, weren't love; they couldn't be. She had known him for merely weeks. At least this time. It wasn't love...but yet...she felt a connection with him. Alice closed her eyes and pulled forth the memories of their time together before, what she could cull from the fog still present where knowledge should be. He was once her best friend. She wanted desperately to have that again.

Before Mirana had allowed Alice to take to her chambers that first evening, she had informed her newly reinstated Champion that she had a great warrior who would spend the coming months prepping her for battle. He would teach her every lesson he knew and together they would discover even greater skills. They would learn together, train together, and when it came to the day she was to face Iracebeth's unknown evil, he would stand by her side.

The idea of putting her life so completely in the hands of another was unsettling for Alice. Having just partially regained her memories, she still felt vulnerable. If only she could remember everything! The gaps in him mind gnawed at her, causing her to question her reactions to the others she met here in Underland and her own instincts. She knew she could trust Tarrant and Mirana, that she had true friends in Chessur, Thackery, Nivens, and Mally. The Tweedles made her laugh with their constant bickering, and she could face the frumious Bandersnatch with no fear. But what of this trainer she was supposed to rely on for three months?

xXx

Tarrant allowed himself just one day to sulk and brood over Alice's rejection of him. But no more. For three years, Tarrant had sneaked above to watch her, thinking to protect her from any threats that might dare to hurt his – er, _the_ Alice. Keeping her safe until her return to Underland was the duty he had chosen. He chuckled to himself, though, for she had not needed that protection. Alice was a bold adventurer, sailing the seven seas, proving herself admirably, but she wasn't stupid. She had been careful and recognized when she needed to rely upon an escort to ensure her safety. There were parts of the land above that he knew weren't safe for her – the bloody, s_lurking_ _urpal slackush scrum! _He would have _killed_ anyone who had _dared _to have even THOUGHT to touch _HIS ALICE! She doesna belong ta ye! _

_No – calm – breathe_, he thought. The Hatter willed himself to regain his composure, gulping down air until clarity returned to his mind. No, Alice didn't belong to them. But neither did she belong to him. His attempts to court her while above had failed.

She might belong to no one, call no one her love, her husband, or soul mate, but that certainly didn't mean that Tarrant was going to give up. No, he would never give up on his sweet Alice. But that wasn't what he needed to focus on now, anyway. For at this moment in Time, and for the next three months, he was no longer the Mad Hatter. Well, he would still be mad, but he wouldn't be a Hatter. Nay, his occupation as the hatter of Marmoreal would have to wait. For now, his sole job was to train Alice to fight. Recognizing the unique bond between her Chamion and her Hatter, and being well aware of Tarrant's swordsmanship abilities, Mirana had requested that he be the one to prepare her for the coming battle. And in that task, that singularly important mission, he would finally fulfill that protective duty he had taken upon himself so many years ago. His job was not to shield her directly, but make sure that when she faced Iracebeth's newest evil, she could protect herself. And that she would _win._

And that was why he mustn't be anything but brave, bold, committed around Alice. If he was going to successfully train her, he couldn't afford to wallow, nor would he allow himself to be dishearened. He might have to be admit that she didn't yet love him, he might have to be patient and wait for the feelings she did have for him to grow into love, but he did not have to act like a lovesick puppy.

Tarrant was a Hightopp. The _last_ Hightopp. They were a proud clan and he must live up to the name. He would win her as his ancestors had done, through a combination of charm, humor, kindness, and, of course, a bit of base masculine prowess.

xXx

The next morning, having finished a hearty breakfast of eggs, toast with butter and jam, and Tarrant's own blend of tea with Mirana, Mally, and Thackery, Alice returned to her suite to change. Leaning against the wall next to her wardrobe was a heavy set of practice armor and a right-proper-Alice-sized broadsword. The armor was not the engraved finery she had worn to face the Jabberwocky, but a simple set, dull, but heavy and of obvious quality. With the help of a lady's maid-cum-squire, she dressed in a set of twill trousers, a linen tunic, and thick padding to protect her skin from the metal chestplate, greaves, and gauntlets. Light, reticulated plates covered her shoulders, but her thighs and knees were bare for mobility.

Alice fretted for a few moments before descending down into the castle's yard to meet her trainer. What would he be like? Would he be a leathered, old soldier? Captain of Mirana's guard? Whoever he was, she hoped he had the knowledge to prepare her for the coming battle. Three months seemed like such a long time, but when she really thought about it, it was apparent what a scant amount of time that was to prepare to defend a world.

She spotted him immediately far across the yard his back to her. Unlike her, the man was wearing very little to protect himself. Thick leather gauntlets, a heavy jerkin, and heavy boots. He appeared to be warming up in preparation for their first day of training. Taking advantage of the fact she was still out of his line of sight, she paused to watch him for a while, observing how he moved, wielding a large, two-handed sword.

Alice found herself mesmerized by him. He slashed and parried an imaginary opponent, slicing down and across, blocking up and away, thrusting occasionally. He moved deliberately, with an odd combination of power and grace. _Perhaps I will learn to move like that. _She hoped very much that he was a capable teacher.

Her tutor raised his sword – _is that a Claymore?_she wondered – high above his head, arcing it downward and stepping into a half-turn. Just as his body finally faced her, he caught a glimpse of her and stopped, immediately moving towards her for a proper morning greeting.

"Tarrant?"

Her sharp intake of breath and the confusion in her eyes made him smile. "Aye, lass," he replied, his accent thick from the adrenaline of his shadow sparring bout. "Who else did ye think Mirana trust ta train her Champion?"

Alice couldn't move from her spot, still stunned at the recognition of her kind, gentle Hatter also as a fierce warrior. It shouldn't have come at such a shock; she had seen him battle Stayne, but her mind refused to relinquish the more recent experience with Tarrant as a gentle businessman.

"Tis a hit to me pride that yer so surprised. Ye ken I did lead the resistance against the Red Queen, Alice." He stopped a couple feet away from her. "Now, shall we begin our training? Three months will pass verra quickly now that Time has started up again. It's me duty to get you as fit and ready as possible before yer comin' battle."

With a broad, gap-toothed smile and a glimmer in his eye, he raised his sword high and slashed down quickly, and found himself immensely pleased when the sound of metal clashing against metal rang out. She had met his sudden attack admirably and immediately took the offensive against him. For such little experience with a sword, she was nimble and often successful at blocking or avoiding his strikes.

She had much to learn. Even Mirana knew not how the battle would commence, so she would need to learn the basics of hand to hand combat. Wrestling, striking, her opponent's points of weakness. These three months would find them exhausted, sore, and at times likely a little bruised and bloody. But Tarrant recognized her natural aptitude. _Yes, _he thought, smiling despite the exertion of their first training fight. _She'll do fine. I do believe she'll be fine swordsman and warrior._


	10. Chapter 10

_**AN: **_**An enormous thanks to all who have read and reviewed the story! You fill my heart with joy!**

**This chapter will definitely see some serious mutual pining between Alice and Hatter. They are training hard for the impending battle, but also coming to terms with their own feelings. All is not yet happy between the two in Underland, though. You'll have to wait a little longer for that. * evil grin * I have big plans. I do indulge in a fair amount of warm and fuzzies in this chapter, though. **

**Enjoy! **

**And, as always, if you read and enjoy, _please_ review! It lets me know you folks like where the story is going.**

**~Jade**

_xXx_

_She had much to learn. Even Mirana knew not how the battle would commence, so she would need to learn the basics of hand to hand combat. Wrestling, striking, her opponent's points of weakness. These three months would find them exhausted, sore, and at times likely a little bruised and bloody. But Tarrant recognized her natural aptitude. Yes, he thought, smiling despite the exertion of their first training fight. _She'll do well. I do believe she'll be fine swordsman and warrior.

_xXx_

Alice and Tarrant were weary to the bone after the exhausting first day of training. The knowledge they had thee more months of this filled Alice with dread and fear. Her body already ached, but she had so much left to learn. They had sparred, drilled various attacks and blocks, and sparred again and again. Tarrant told her that she had performed admirably, but she recognized her poor form and lack of endurance. Countless times Tarrant had pulled his strike just shy of his target when she had missed a block. A thousand deaths would have plagued her had he struck home each time she had faltered.

They were both covered in dust and sweat, but yet Alice admired the blush of exertion on his face and the rogue curls which escaped from the leather thong tying his hair back from his face. Laughing at Tarrant's reenactment of Alice's particularly awkward footwork which had resulted in them both tumbling to the ground earlier, they collapsed beneath a shade tree, backs against the trunk, labored breaths calming as they rested.

Taking advantage of his teasing mood and her current boldness, nay _muchness_, borne of a day learning to fight, Alice spoke. "You know, for a hatter, you are a fine swordsman."

"Thank you, Alice." A soft lisp accompanied his broad smile.

"Tell me how you learned to fight, Tarrant. It is clear you've had much practice. Did you learn from your family? Was your dad a warrior, too?" Tarrant valiantly tried to contain his pride and excitement. Alice was praising him! She thought him a fine warrior. His male ego was considerably buoyed.

"As you wish, my prized pupil. Settle in for a bit. The telling will take some time." Tarrant hesitated only a moment before beginning. Alice recognized the brief flash of pain and sadness, and was not surprised when he chose to gaze out into training yard for the telling instead of facing her.

What shared with her was not merely his earliest training, but the tale of his family. His clan's history held the origins of his own ability to fight. He had never shared this with anyone outside his family; it was too personal, too close to the heart. But for his beloved Alice, he would do anything. Even bare his soul through once-fond memories, now painful. He was the last of them, and this may be the final time it would be told.

He knew she didn't understand the significance of the telling, but wished that she did.

"You see, Alice, my clan had always been craftsman, hatters, leatherworkers, even blacksmiths, anything which required great focus, artistic ability, and precision. But the Hightopp elders had always ensured they were also trained as warriors. Generations before, the story goes, the clan had been engaged in a great battle with a neighboring clan, the Sinclairs."

Tarrant paused to glance over at Alice. She had closed her eyes and laid down in the grass, head resting on her arm. He hoped the memory of his Athair's recounting would come as easily to him.

The feud had started innocently enough, a young Hightopp lad falling for a Sinclair lass, resulting in a pregnancy. However, the lass had already been betrothed to another, the son of a very powerful warlord. Furious that his prospects of social mobility upward had been ruined through the marriage that could no longer happen, The Sinclair, laird of his clan had vowed revenge upon the Hightopps. The Sinclairs had been declining in status for a generation and this was their last chance to reverse that fall.

The Hightopp laird tried with all his might to reason with the Sinclair. His silver tongue spoke eloquently of the love between the two and that their happiness would provide for a much brighter future for the family than a marriage for money ever would.

Finding that argument unable to sway the Sinclair, he reasoned with him that while the Hightopps weren't a war power in the highlands, their craftsmen made a good living, and the girl would be well cared for. An alliance between the Sinclairs and Hightopps would provide the Sinclair youth opportunities to apprentice with fine gold and ironsmiths, which would bring economy back to the clan.

As hard as the Hightopp worked, the Sinclair had long before made up his mind. When the war started, all Hightopps took up arms, training, fighting, waging battle time and time again. This lasted for months, until the young Hightop lad, Declan, escaped into the night with Fiona Sinclair. They tried to run as far as they could, hoping that they could start a life together and that their unborn child would not be raised amidst so much violence.

But the night was dark and the forest soon became unfamiliar to them. Fiona, by this time, heavy with child, stumbled on the roots of a large sycamore. Declan tried to catch her, but found himself falling, too. The lovers fell, tumbling and twisting through a dark abyss, until sleep found them both.

When the morning sun woke the pair, tangled in each other's embrace, they were no longer in same forest they had been traveling through, but that of a the strange land. They were hungry and thirsty from their journey the night before, and went in search of a town or village where they could find shelter and a kind soul to take them in.

But shortly after they commenced their search for a peopled area, they instead discovered an old man trapped up a tree by a raging razorback. Recognizing the danger the man was in, Declan rushed to his aid. Looking around him for a makeshift weapon, he snapped a dead limb off a nearby tree, its end splintering into a sharp point. He ran at the boar and stabbed it without hesitation, saving the life of the old man.

Without knowing the gravity of his actions, Declan had just sealed his and Fiona's fates. For the man they saved was no mere grandfather from a local town; he was the great wizard Chriton. A man of two hundred years if he was a day, by all accounts. Now, one may wonder what a great wizard needed saving for. And that is a mighty good question. But who am I to question fate, or the Oraculum?

Chriton, in gratitude for Declan's courageous deed, granted a touch of Underlandian magic upon them, transforming them. The pair were no longer human in the above sense. They were now Underlandian through and through, magical beings of a wonderous land. This is how the Hightopps came to be in Underland and call it home.

When the babe was born a few months later, Declan feared that it was only a matter of time before the Sinclairs found them, so he raised the boy to be strong, to be a warrior. However, Underland had few conflicts, and the tiny clan needed more than soldiering to survive. So Declan and his many sons and daughters turned to the Hightopp traditions of craftsmanship.

The tradition of being warrior craftsman was sustained for a hundred generations, as they integrated themselves into Underland, marrying into and mingling with those who belonged to the land. The magic in their blood would always tie them to Underland, the Oraculum, and the great events of Underland's history. But they would never forget their ties to the above land and their past.

"That a wonderful story, Tarrant." Alice turned to smile sleepily at him. "Thank you for sharing that with me." Alice had enjoyed the story, but a sense of familiarity had settled upon her. Like when she had been with Tarrant before she started to regain her memories, she felt as though she was forgetting something, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

Alice shrugged off the feeling and gave in to the more pressing need to sleep. She knew she'd be sore in the morning if she didn't soak in a warm bath before going to bed, but at this moment in time, she didn't care.

Tarrant smiled down at her as he watched her slip into slumber. His fingers grazed her cheek gently before he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to her chambers in the castle.

Wanting nothing more than to lay down beside her for just a moment, Tarrant indulged his needs, and climbed onto the bed. What glory this would be if this he had the honor of sleeping here, next to her, every night! Tarrant laid on his side, propped up on his elbow, and marveled at her beauty. Despite a day of exhausting, dirty work training to fight and wield a sword, she looked like an angel in sleep.

After a few minutes of the peace the actions offered him, he grew so sleepy he could barely keep his eyes open. He feared what would happen if she woke up and he had fallen asleep, so he forced himself up and towards his own chambers. But not before he brushed the softest of kisses on her brow.

"I love you, Alice," he whispered, pulling he door to quietly.

_xXx_

Iracebeth of Crims paced back and forth, anxious, yet confident.

"Mirana has returned that foolish girl to Underland. She thinks herself a champion because she slayed my Jabberwocky, yet she's nothing more than a head of blonde hair in a blue dress." Iracebeth was still irritable about that subject and kicked a small stone across the courtyard of her reclaimed fortress at Salazen _Grum_.

"Damn Mirana for standing against me again! Doesn't she know that as the older sister, it is MY right to rule? Everyone loves Mirana but not me. They even love Alice, more than me! She's not part of our world, she doesn't belong here, yet they all accept her as their own."

"Alice and her insufferable _muchness_." Iracebeth scoffed at the idea that Alice would prevail a second time. "She'll be no match for what I have in store for her this time."

Though she knew victory was at hand, she indulged her temper and stomped about anyway. The benefit of being Queen – or of knowing she _would_ be a queen again – was doing whatever she pleased.

"No abovelander will be able to kill the Agingroth. The magic is too strong, his power too great." Iracebeth was sure of this fact. The only one who ever knew how to defeat him was Chriton, long dead by her own order. Sad, that. For all his talk of being a mighty wizard, a few weeks of torture at the hands of Stayne and told her everything she needed to know. Then she had fed him to the Jabberwocky.

She sensed his dark presence and addressed _her _champion. The one who would win the kingdom back for the Red Queen. "The time is drawing near. I'll never understand this ridiculous rule of three you insist on upholding. Providing three chances to defeat you is doing nothing but inviting trouble."

Iracebeth knew he liked to toy with his victims before obliterating them and that his power was so great that he used the multiple attacks to entertain himself, a brief respite from the boredom that immortality brought. He had been around for thousands of years, immune from aging, disease, and hunger. He could die should he suffer a mortal wound, but no one had ever discovered the secret soon enough use it against him.

The thought of turning the destruction of her sister and her reign into a game had aggravated Iracebeth when she had first used the old magic to summon him from whatever realm he bided his time in between destroying worlds. But she couldn't argue with his success.

Agingroth appeared at her side, a hulking, black shadow. Like a black hole, he captured and devoured any light that dared come near him. Afraid to gaze into the abyss of Agingroth, Iracebeth was careful never to look directly at him for too long and turned her head away.

She would be glad to be rid of him soon. She couldn't bear to be near him for too long. The darkness and evil radiating from him was too much, even for her. But in the end, he would engulf Marmoreal, its champion, ad the lands nearby, leaving only her dominion and enough people to rule. Such utter destruction could fill his belly and negate any rebellion which may have been formed at her reemergence.

"Just weeks remain before the appointed time. You shall feed your hunger and I mine."

_xXx_

The first few weeks Alice and Tarrant fell into a comfortable routine. Breakfast together, broadsword training in the mornings with endurance and strength late into the afternoon, peppered occasionally with wrestling or basal weaponless hand to hand combat sessions. Tea in the afternoons calmed them and offered an opportunity to enjoy the company of their friends and the endless streams of courtiers wishing to get to know the Champion.

The physical work, he found, kept his mind relatively clear from the madness that habitually claimed him. He had no time to dwell on the deaths of his family, nor were the fumes of his trade poisoning his mind. Whereas the madness usually claimed him a few times a week, the need to wholly focus on nothing but training Alice, and by extension, protect her, drove all but a quirky sense of humour and quick giggles from him. Each night, he allowed himself the whimsy and fantasy which had been his other trademark, but he desperately kept the madness at bay.

The hardest part of fighting the madness was simply the urge of his brain to revolt at constantly attacking the thing which he valued more than his own life. How very adverse to his nature to slash at Alice, to kick her feet out from under her whenever he got the chance, to try his best to pin her to the ground with his knife against her throat. There were times when he came close to actually hurting her that it was all he could do not to fall to the ground, his head in his hands, and let the madness consume him.

Ensconced in the madness, he was not trying to kill his Alice, but laying in a field of clover, gazing upon the night sky, hands intertined. Only at night, when he had returned to his room and he was no longer the protector, did he allow his mind to revolt. His eyes would flash green-orange-red-yellow-back to red, going over the events again and again, until he was sure he had not harmed a hair on her head. And as he drifted into sleep, Tarrant would seize upon a single look she had graced him with, or the feeling of her heart pounding and her body soft beneath him on the training yard floor, or best of all, the kiss they had shared back above, and the blue of despair would soften to a delicate lavender.

Alice had never remarked upon it, but he was sure that lavender eyes had gazed upon her when he had confessed his love, followed by midnight blue as he realized she didn't return his feelings.

Meanwhile, Alice marveled in the change in her body and in her mind. At the beginning, muscles she didn't even know she possessed ached, moving in the armor made her clumsy and stiff. She had to force herself out of bed every morning, wanting desperately to avoid the coming pain and fatigue. As she improved, however, she came to enjoy the sessions, challenging herself, stretching and growing every day. She was becoming lean and lithe, quick and agile.

Always mindful of his vow to win her love, Tarrant took advantage of the time with Alice to charm her incessantly, keeping her constantly off balance as he alternated between light-hearted jokes and combat instruction. He poked fun at her when the situation permitted, flirting as best he knew how with his scant experience with women.

Tarrant teased her with his closeness when he pinned her during training, lingering just a moment or two too long with his body pressed against hers or his breath on her throat. Each time, he watched the confusion in her eyes as she warred with her own emotions.

Once, he even tempted her with a view of his body after she successfully slashed his shirt open, rendering the thing practically useless. He had paused, a glint in his eyes, and pulled it off. Ensuring she had glimpsed the muscles covering his abdomen and chest, he had flexed his arms and feigned a stretch. Knowing then that she was watching him, he had walked over to his pack and pulled a fresh shirt out. Turning back to her, he pulled it over his head, and caught the look of pure female admiration that the sight of his broad shoulders and flat stomach elicited. He had whispered a silent thanks to his Athair for instilling the discipline to train with his sword each morning that kept his body hard.

He had never courted before, but he knew where the line was between harmless flirting and exposure of his true feelings. Never did he touch her softly, as much as he yearned to. Not once did he try to kiss her again, or even take her wee hand in his as he escorted her to dinner. He had been rejected by her once; if he was to ever earn her love, it would have to be volunteered, not sought. She was not the average woman, she was too independent and unconventional to be won, he recognized that now. And the discipline it required was killing him.

_xXx_

They spent two months training at the castle, but as Time grew short and the threat of the coming of Iracebeth's monster quickened, the constant distractions of the courtiers and afternoons with the tea parties became too much. They had but one month remaining to accomplish the skills most obtained throughout a lifetime.

In the past, he had stood next to Alice with his broadsword in his hands, ready to fight for the future of Underland. Now he stood before her, wielding his sword against the one person he cared for more than anything in the world. Too train her. To protect her. For a battle was coming once again. Was it the ancient highland blood in his veins, or was it the Outlandish kin? He wasn't sure, but he could _feel_ it.

Tarrant was vexed greatly by this. He knew Alice needed time to spend with Mirana, who she had become increasingly close with, and the laughs brought on by the Tweedles and Thackery relieved the stresses of a long day. Chessur's sly wit and Mally's enthusiasm for training stories always brought a smile to her weary face. But each night, Alice stayed up too late, meeting more inhabitants of Underland, sharing girl talk about who knows what with Mirana, or humoring Nivens' need to cluck his tongue and fuss over every one of her bruises and scratches. She wasn't getting the rest she needed, and her mind was easily distracted at the end of the day, bolting back to the castle sooner than she should have. That last hour or two of training was lost to a wandering mind, more often than not.

Thus, Tarrant, with the full support of the White Queen, made the decision that they would travel out into the woods to separate themselves from distraction. No distractions would clear her mind and allow her to be completely enveloped by her training. He hated to pull her from her friends, but her life was at stake. And the lives of Underland.

He led them out of the castle keep atop sturdy warhorses and carrying some meager supplies with them. _Now, lass, the __**real **__training begins, _he thought grimly. He knew she would not like what he had planned for her.

A quiver full of sharp arrows and a strong bow were slung across each of their backs. A small knife was tucked into boot tops and larger dirks were slung across their hips on the opposite side from their sword.

"We'll eat only what we can catch or gather, Alice. Hunting will teach you to kill." Tarrant paused to watch her reaction. She gave no outward reaction to this news, but he saw the quiet pain in her eyes. Her naturally gentle nature, while not like Mirana's aversion to violence, made her hesitate to hurt another living thing, but that couldn't stand. She would need to be ruthless in the coming battle.

"Not to worry, lass. Enough animals from your above have fallen through rabbit holes that Underland has a burgeoning population of rabbits, birds, and even a nascent herd of deer that won't speak to you, nor invite you to share tea. They don't have the magic in their blood to every truly belong here, nor to be anything more to you than the game you ate above." The gruff manner in which he spoke, his accent thick and voice gutteral belied the pain in his heart.

He tried to take his mind off of her shock by setting up their campsite. A roaring fire was prepared and a small tent, just large enough for them both to be shielded from the elements comfortably were their only comforts. Only their weapons and several canteens of water from the ride out laid up against a tree nearby.

Endless days of training, hunting, gathering, and running ended with a cooling dip in the brook bordering their settlement. She learned to draw the bow and aim true, for the food to satiate her hunger depended upon it. The hesitation to strike a death blow slowly abandoned her. Despite her initial objections to his methods, Alice realized Tarrant had been correct. Her faux battles with him had taught her the skills and technique, but it had never been real. This was terribly so.

At night, they would sit by the fire and relax, resting their sore muscles, bandaging cuts and scrapes incurred during one of their battles when necessary, and talking of the past. They spent their time between the sun setting and falling into slumber learning one another. It didn't take Tarrant long to realize this most remarkable woman was the best friend he would ever have.

But always, Tarrant kept his distance from her, and she from him. An unspoken understanding existed between them, it seemed.

Tarrant was careful to never broach the subject of the future with her in their long talks. In truth, he was too afraid to hear her speak of plans to return above once the battle was over. Tarrant's heart had barely survived her second departure from Underland; a third would surely shatter it beyond repair.

But he knew not that thoughts of him coming up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her back into his chest haunted her in dreams. In the mornings, she could still feel his warm breath against her neck, his lips softly covering her neck with wet kisses until a fire burned within her. Had he only asked, she would have told him she was praying each evening not her vespers nor was she reciting the rosary, but pleading to a God she wasn't sure existed in this land that Tarrant would want her to stay. That he would ask her to stay, with him.

Back back in London, Alice would have caused quite the scandal. Not only was she routinely donning men's breeches, rolling around in the dirt learning to fight and was using her knife or a swift arrow to kill her dinner, but each night, she and Tarrant bedded down together in their shared tent.

They laid out their bedrolls separately, bidding each other pleasant dreams, but after the first few nights, Tarrant woke to find her snuggled up against him. Sometime during the long dark hours, she had unconsciously moved to his side. He smiled. _She is a stubborn one, our Champion._ _She won't admit it while she's awake, but in her sleep, she has feelings for me. _

Deciding to those times he could not suffer rejection, Tarrant waited for her breathing to even to the calm breaths of sleep, and pulled her up against him into an embrace. Depending on how she fell asleep, some nights, he pulled her back to his chest and cuddled his knees up into the bend of her own. Others, he gently kissed her forehead and wrapped her arms around him as he did the same, tucking her head beneath his chin.

The moments as he drifted off into his own dreams and as the sun made its first appearance of the day were the most wonderful he had ever experienced. Alice was a slept deeply and never woke until he called her name and handed her a cup of tea. How he longed to be so forward during the light of the day, to pull her into his arms at any time he wanted, to confess the feelings in his heart. But she would never know his secret, nor would she ever cherish these nights as he did.

Alice, usually an un-usually sound sleeper, awoke suddenly one night from a haunting dream. In it, she had sat with an old man in a house inside a tree. The grizzly, grey-haired man looked kind and read her stories from the large collection of books that lined his walls, enchanting her with his ability to weave a tale. She struggled to remember him. Did she know him? Was he real? She couldn't tell. Her mind warred within itself, struggling to remember, but denying it was anything more than a dream.

Groggy, she was immensely pleased to realize the warmth surrounding her was not her blanket, but Tarrant's body. He had hauled her up against his chest and was holding her close. The dream – or was it a memory? – was quickly forgotten at the pleasure of the contact.

Testing his reaction, Alice shifted slightly in his arms. At the movement, Tarrant stirred, and ran his hand up and down her arm a few times, causing goosebumps to erupt over her body and a tightness in her chest. He murmured something in her ear that sounded suspiciously like 'my Alice' and settled back down.

Daily, Alice found herself running over the events of that day – _the day – _they had kissed again and again, hearing him confess his love, then awkwardly take it back, shrugging off words which should never be spoken lightly. He hadn't meant it when he had told her he loved her. As much as she longed for him pull her into a warm embrace or to brush a kiss against her lips, she dared not raise her hopes, lest they be crushed again.

Their discipline never wavered by the light of day. _Oh, Alice, where has your muchness gone? You should just ask him. _ No, she couldn't. _When he had kissed her above, Tarrant told me he was simply caught up in the moment, in the excitement, desperation to return the Champion to Underland. He doesn't really love me, how could he? He is this perfect Underlandian being, handsome, brave, more committed to the safety of Mamoreal and Mirana than she had even been to anything. _ And how could ever deserve him after abandoning her dear friend years before?

Alice couldn't stand the rejection of someone who she valued so much, so she remained silent. He was her best friend, confidant, the man who was trying his hardest to keep her safe. She couldn't ruin that by admitting she was falling in love with him. Or that she was doing nothing but lying to herself when she denied that she had already completed the fall.

Instead, she trained herself to wake before he did each morn. She would lie still and breathe in his spicy scent, fighting the urge to turn to him and place kisses along his throat until he groaned her name. Alice laid still in his strong arms until he woke, feeling him squeeze her gently in the ghost of an hug. He would get up softly, sometimes lingering in the morning light, to prepare her tea, while she pretended not to notice.

The pattern continued for the weeks they were in the woods, but not once did he show her any special attention that would lead her to believe he's anything more than her dear friend, confidant, and tutor. In the silence, both their hearts were breaking.


	11. Chapter 11

**Thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter! I know, I know. I'm torturing you all drawing out the Tarrant/Alice tension. But it will make what's coming next chapter even sweeter. All good things come to those who wait. :)**

**Hope you enjoy this. Our heroes finally meet the beast on the battlefield. Thus commences the battle for Marmoreal.**

**~Jade**

**xXx  
**

_She trained herself to wake before he did each morn. She would lie still and breathe in his spicy scent, fighting the urge to turn to him and place kisses along his throat until he groaned her name. Alice laid still in his strong arms until he woke, feeling him squeeze her gently in the ghost of an hug. He would get up softly, sometimes lingering in the morning light, to prepare her tea, while she pretended not to notice. _

_The pattern continued for the weeks they were in the woods, but not once did he show her any special attention that would lead her to believe he's anything more than her dear friend, confidant, and tutor. _

_In the silence, both their hearts were breaking._

xXx

"My queen, I've found nothing. The Champion will have to face the beast in only three days." Chessur's usual grin was instead a grimace as he reported to Mirana, floating somberly before her.

"You've been through all of them, then? No more remain anywhere?" Mirana glided elegantly between bowls and jars, gathering ingredients and mixing them carefully. Her calm and regal exterior covered the dread which had settled in her heart.

Unable to stand by and do nothing for her kingdom while her Aboveland Champion risked her life, Mirana had been preparing every potion she could conceive, and enough pain and healing salves to cover Alice from head to toe, if need be.

While Tarrant and the Champion had trained, Mirana and Chessur had gathered every magical text, tome on myth, legend, or tale, and every potion-making book they could, scouring them for information. Chessur had scoured all the volumes, cataloging, indexing. Lists after lists, referenced, cross-referenced, by size, color, appearance, features; is it a dragon, a lion, does it have the head of a bull, the scales of a snake, is it large or small, can it speak, or does it growl?

They didn't know the monster's name or what it was. Apparently the thing was too horrible even for the Oraculum to show them, for the picture remained but an abyss, and nothing more. Not even days in the future or the Champion's victory, as had been the case with the Jabberwocky. They had to be prepared for anything that might stand before them.

Chessur had gone through generations of mystical knowledge, passed down through the matriarchal line of Marmoreal. Thanks to Chessur's work, once the beast was revealed, he and Mirana would hasten back to the castle and find the beast by attribute, prepare for the second day of the three.

But Mirana had also sent missives to the other kingdoms of Underland, even those with which Marmoreal no longer had routine contact, pleading for their help. Underland was an odd place, for all its kingdoms and realms were spread so far apart that there was virtually no contact between most of them. Mirana had hoped that the other sovereigns would understand the threat to their own kingdoms, however, should Iracebeth ever set her sights on any other than Marmoreal.

Her peers had not disappointed, either. Stacks of musty books, ancient scrolls, and lists of potions were soon delivered from those across the Crimson sea, on the Golden Coast, and even the reclusive souls atop the snow-capped Tarathian mountains. And each messenger brought with him or her a pledge to lend assistance with their armies should the three attempts fail. Armies were mustering forces across the whole of Underland, prepared to fight for the continued existence of the White Realm.

Mirana's wisdom had hit home with her fellow regents. If Marmoreal could fall, so could the others.

But despite the resources at their disposal, the future was still a mystery. Not the faintest _hint_ of what they would be facing could be found anywhere.

xXx

"'Tis time to return to Marmoreal, Alice." Tarrant lisped over a lunch of roasted pheasant. The weather had turned cool and the warmth of the fire kept the chill off. Strange, it never used to get cold in Underland so early in the fall. The change from summer to fall had come quickly, too. In mere weeks the heat of summer had faded and iced.

Although they dared not speak of it, both Alice and Tarrant knew the cold was no mere weather anomaly. The change in Underland had been brought by the beast. And in just three days, Alice would have to stand against it.

Packing up their gear, dousing the last of the fire, and the ride back to Marmoreal was somber. Both ached from weeks of training and sleeping on the ground, and would be glad for a soft bed and the happy bustle of the castle. A few good nights' rest, a break from sparring, and meals shared with their closest friends would do much to ease the burden on their bodies and souls.

They had just two days to relax and to heal, to cherish time with those they loved. If the Champion did not prevail, all lives would be forfeit. They had three chances, no more. The gravity of what would be constricted Tarrant's chest.

Mally, Thackery, and Nivens met them at the gates, smiles broad, and announcing that tea was ready. "Yer _LATE!_" Thackery exclaimed, throwing a scone at Alice.

"Yes, Alice. Naughty," Tarrant teased. "We are both terribly late this time. We've missed tea for nearly two months! We must get cleaned up and rectify this at once." He kept his voice light, and there was a familiar glimmer in his eye as he helped her down off her horse.

He was almost the same man who had been courting her above, Alice realized. Their months together in the woods had brought them closer than ever, their constant training bonding them unlike any other that friends share. They had laughed together and he had shared stories of both his own youth and the times Alice had not yet remembered from her childhood trips to Underland. But the gave importance of their task had always left a tangible tension.

Alice was monumentally glad Tarrant was able to ignore that now and lose himself in the happiness of friends, and decided that was the best way to spend the next two days. There was no use in dwelling, only in enjoying the life they would soon fight to protect.

"Let us hurry, then. Mustn't miss tea any more." Alice smiled at her friends, glad she had returned to them from Aboveland.

With that, Alice and Tarrant hurried inside to bathe and dress in fresh clothes. Alice reveled in the feeling of the soft, warm gown waiting for her. Her breeches and tunic were momentarily forgotten, and she felt like a different person. Clean, refreshed, and happy.

When she made her way to the tea table, she found everyone awaiting her. Mirana sat at the head of the table, Chessur to her right, and the Tweedles to her left. Mally and Thackery were bickering over whether squimberry jam could should be used on poppleberry scones, and Nivens nibbled on a tiny, purple sandwich.

"Alice, my dear!" Mirana rose to greet her Champion. "We're so glad you've returned to us. We've missed you terribly. Have the rest of your memories returned to you yet?"

"No, your majesty. The recent ones, yes. I remember well the events of the last time I was here. It is just my first visit that still eludes me. I know I stayed here for quite some time and must have had such great adventures, but they are still a blur to me. I can see flashes of faces I used to know, snippets of that time come to me in dreams still. I fear it will be some time before everything will return to me."

"Be patient. I am sure they will come to you." Mirana changed the subject, hoping to hear some good news. "I trust your training went well?"

"Yes, your majesty." Alice smiled, the pride in her accomplishments obvious. "Tarrant was a most skilled teacher. Between swordsmanship, hand-to-hand combat with axes and knives, and wrestling, I feel ready to take on any beast the Bloody Big Head can call."

Alice's eyes snapped to Tarrant as she heard the crash. Pieces of a shattered tea cup lay before him, his fingers still in the handle, a small trickle of blood running down his hands where he had squeezed too hard.

"Downal wyth bluddy beg hid!" Tarrant yelled, voice low and gravelly, Outlandish accent thick, eyes red. "Slurking urpal slackush scrum! She dares to attack us again, kill more than before, destroy us all, but if she hurts one hair on my Alice's head, I'll gut her like the craven, dirty..."

"Hatter!" the table cried in unison.

"Tarrant!" Alice ran to him. "Tarrant, come back to us."

"...bluddy...sorry..." Tarrant was suddenly aware of the soft hand on his cheek and the worried eyes of Alice, filling with tears, before him. "...I'm fine...thank you..." he said softly. He turned his face into her palm and closed his eyes for just a second. "Thank you, Alice."

Instead of returning to her seat next to Thackery, Alice stayed next to Tarrant, taking advantage of one of the extra chairs at the large table. "How fetching you look back in your colors, Tarrant," she noted, changing the subject to something lighter.

Gone were his gauntlets and thick jerkin. Instead, navy slacks were paired with a plum jacket, a maroon shirt, and a polka-dot cravat. The bright, clashing colors would not work for any other man, she mused. "And I never will understand how that hat of yours stayed on your head for the entirety of training! Not once did it fall off."

"'Tis a bit of Underland magic, love. I shall teach you some time."

Tarrant might not have noticed the slip of his tongue in calling her 'love', but everyone else did. Alice's eyes grew wide and her breath caught. She quickly covered her surprise, but noted none of the rest did. Chessur and Mirana cut their eyes to each other, smirking. Thackery giggled uncontrollably, and the Tweedles kicked each other under the table.

"What? Did Alice and I miss a joke while we were talking? Why is everyone giggling? It must have been a great gaff!"

Tarrant's confusion was adorable, Mirana decided. "Nothing, Hatter. We're just so very glad you've returned to us for the next few days."

_xXx_

The two days passed quickly, filled with joy and laughter. But as the darkness of night fell and the freezing wind howled outside the windows on the eve of the battle, neither Tarrant nor Alice could deny what was coming.

"You know you don't have to do this, Alice," his voice was barely a whisper. His eyes met hers, searching, pleading. For what, she didn't know. "This isn't your world, this doesn't have to be your burden to bear. We don't know what this thing is or how to defeat it. You could die. There's still time to go back," Tarrant paused, "home, if you want to."

"I know that I can. I know this is not my world, but no, Tarrant. I must do this, it was me in the Oraculum."

Tarrant's heart clenched, his chest tight, fear overriding every other emotion. He loved her so much, and she could die. She could die for Underland. She had trained and fought hard. She had shown muchness, valor, commitment. "You are a true Champion, Alice. Your muchness is so much more...muchier...than ever." He forced a smile past his fear. _She's ready_, he realized. "If anyone can beat this thing, its you."

As he turned to part with her, he paused, turned back. Placing a soft kiss on her forehead, he asked, "With all your muchness, there is one thing I must ask." Hope restored, and ready to fight upon the coming day, he laughed, just a little.

"Yes, Tarrant?"

"Why is a raven like a writing desk?" His face was solemn, but his eyes were smiling. How many times had he asked her that same question?

"I haven't the slightest idea, Hatter. Perhaps when this is all over, we can find out. That will be our next great quest."

xXx

The morning dawned to a luminous sky. Pinks and reds and purples filled the sky as the sun began its ascent. Heavy black clouds loom in the distance, toward the battleground. The time has come to fight.

Today, Alice did not wear the dull practice armour she had donned for the past weeks, nor did she carry the unadorned broadsword she had spent so much time striking and clanging against Tarrant's claymore. Today was _the _day. The armour of the Champion fit well against her frame, now firm with lean muscles and the Vorpal sword was at home in her hand.

Tarrant once again appeared in his Outland best for the coming battle. Blue jacket and red waistcoat, his favorite cravat and the Hightopp clan's plaid around his hips. His great claymore hung at his waist.

Mirana and Chess were waiting at the gates with a couple great warhorses and the Bandersnatch as the Champion and the man who never left her side descended the steps.

"Tis a fine morning for a battle, majesty." Tarrant bowed low to Mirana. "Cat," a head nod acknowledged the feline floating beside the Queen.

The light mood of the previous days was replaced with an unmatched intensity. He struggled to keep his mind. The madness threatened to overtake him at any moment. The thought of losing Marmoreal, its people, his Queen, and his Alice to this beast was almost enough to send him over the edge. It had been months since he had worked his trade, and for once, he was thankful. Fresh mercury in his system would have weakened his resistance and his sanity would have been lost for certain, just when it was needed the most.

"Bandersnatch!" Alice cried, seeing her friend. He growled happily and wagged about. A giant tongue lolled from his mouth and licked Alice's face from chin to forehead. "Stop, now! I can't fight if my eyes are covered in Bandersnatch slobber!" She laughed and scratched behind his ears.

"Neither Chess nor I will be able to come to your aid, Alice," Mirana addressed her. "We are there only to learn what we can about the beast. Nor can you lend your sword, Tarrant. In this battle, Underland can have only one champion."

Tarrant grumbled under his breath. He'd be damned if he wouldn't fight for Alice if he came down to that. He could only pray that it didn't.

The trio of humans mounted up and rode out together, side by side. Chessur floated beside them, completing their quartet. This time, they did not even bother to bring an army. With three chances, they knew they must save that for the last day, should it come to that. The rules were clearly given by the Oraculum; Underland can have only one Champion to face the beast. However, they would try to bend the rules and have a single army, united with her leadership. While not the letter nor the spirit of the law, it was their all-else-fails backup plan.

As they approached the battlefield, Mirana and Chessur hung back. Tarrant rode out to the center beside Alice, where Iracebeth and a handful of card-soldiers awaited.

"Are you ready for three days of pain before Marmoreal and all its inhabitants are destroyed, Champion?" Iracebeth raised her chin and looked down her nose at Alice. "Or would you prefer to admit defeat now and let the Agingroth feed upon you without the suffering you will endure fighting against him?"

At the sound of his name, a hulking shadow a hundred feet high and a hundred feet wide, moved forward from the tree-line. The edges of the abyss were not clean and defined, but flickering, moving, growing as more light fell victim to it.

Alice gasped at the sight of it. Tarrant reached for her hand and intertwined his fingers with hers, a show of solidarity, an offering of comfort in the face of evil.

Something familiar niggled in the back of Alice's mind at the name of the beast. Why did it sound so familiar? Surely she would have remembered if she had ever seen this thing before.

The Oraculum had not been obscured, after all. They had all thought it showed an undefined area of darkness because the beast was too big, too horible to show. Or that the future was not clear, even for the Oraculum. It had shown them what they would face.

Panic threatened to overtake her as surely as Tarrant fought the madness beside her. The Agingroth left nothing in its wake. The path it had travelled was simply gone. Where grass-covered ground had once A deep chasm, a void. It was as if for a mile below there was simply nothing there.

_How can I fight nothingness? How can I fight what isn't there?_ Alice racked her brain, praying, pleading, hoping she could remember that thing which she knew was in her mind. _Damn those memories._ If only she had everything back that had been lost to her.

"You cannot yet be destroying this land, Iracebeth!" Alice cried at the top of her lungs. "You have not won yet! I am Alice Kingsley, Slayer of the mighty Jabberwocky, Champion of Underland. And you have underestimated me to think that I cannot best your beast given three tries."

A laugh echoed within the abyss, a haunting sound that sent shivers up Alice's spine. Then suddenly, the darkness started to shift, to swirl, wind and dust kicking up everywhere, faster and faster. Tarrant grabbed Alice and pulled her back, further away from the thing, unwilling to let her get sucked into its vortex.

They watched it begin to _change._ Shrink, condense, into...the shape...what?...the form of a person. Out of the darkness emerged a man. Black hair was slicked back from a chiseled face. Piercing eyes of blue ice met Alice's brown, flickered to Tarrant's, red with rage and barely controlled madness. Alice shivered at the cold, unfeeling gaze.

Agingroth in his corporeal form stood tall, his body adorned with fine boots, breeches, and a shirt of the finest silk. And when he spoke again, his voice was like velvet smooth, but laced with hatred and disdain engendered from the self-assured knowledge he was superior to these _things_ that stood against him. These specks in time the he would soon devour.

He looked her up and down. _This_ is their champion? This woman? No attempts to cheat by sending a vast army? No line of knights or hulking warlords? The corner of his mouth drew into a smirk. Oh, how he had hoped to fight a real challenger again. He had grown so bored of facing weaklings and told her so.

"You are such a tiny, inconsequential thing. Yet you think to defeat me?" He almost laughed again. "I have destroyed a thousand lands with champions superior to you. And when this is over and I have devoured your lands, I will move on to a thousand more."

Tarrant reluctantly stepped back, allowing Underland's Champion to face her foe. Yet he remained close, ready, keeping a close eye on the Bluddy B_eg Hid and watchful gaze on his Alice._ He would not leave her.

"Face me, Agingroth. You will not be disappointed." Alice drew the Vorpal sword from its sheath and moved toward him.

Agingroth materialized a wicked looking black blade in his hands and swung it around his body, rolling his wrists in preparation. Finally he charged and the steel of the Vorpal blade flashed as it met the darkness. It had begun.

He played with her for hours, testing her abilities to block, parry, and strike. They danced across the battlefield as he pushed the limits of her agility. They circled each other warily, Alice moving in to strike, once, twice, three times, then jumping back out of the way before he could overwhelm her with his superior strength.

Agingroth smiled. He was impressed by her skill. For such a wee thing, she fought well, and with courage. He even found himself enjoying the fight. Usually he used the three days to affirm his superiority, to laugh at the feeble attempts waged against him. It had been generations since he had found a worthy opponent, and the prospect of killing her on their third encounter disappointed him. Such is the way of the world, however.

As courageously and skillfully as Alice fought, she could gain no ground with him. In the hours they had fought, just one blow had caught his flesh, and then only a minor slice of his arm which had instantly healed. Alice grew more and more weary, gasping breaths gulping air, while he was tireless. She was battered an bruised, delirious from exhaustion.

As the sun drew low in the sky, Tarrant watched in horror as Alice stumbled, and the tip of the Vorpal lodged in the ground as she caught herself. Agingroth seized the opportunity to strike the sword, shattering it.

"Even the Vorpal sword is no defense against me, girl," he laughed again, that deep echoing boom that chilled even Iracebeth to the core.

Alice stumbled back, clutching the shattered hilt and blade of the Vorpal sword, stunned. She was frozen. No, she denied it, shook her head. It could not be. Not the Vorpal sword! She could do nothing but stare at the broken sword in her hand in disbelief.

Tarrant ran forward, his claymore slashing at the beast. It was futile, he knew, but it bought enough time for Alice to regain her senses.

"Now, now. No cheating. Underland can have only one Champion at a time," Agingroth sneered has he shoved Tarrant off of him. "No need to come to her rescue, Outlander. We have two more days, I'll not kill her yet."

He turned his back to Tarrant, who was now crouched at Alice's side, as she laid on the ground, too weary even to stand. "Let us meet again on the morrow, Champion. I look forward to it."

xXx

Tarrant helped Alice back to the Bandersnatch, who whined and licked her many cuts and bruises. The healing power of his saliva worked quickly to stop the bleeding, but did nothing for the fatigue that kept her from standing under her own power. Leaving Alice leaned up against the Bandernatch's side, Tarrant climbed up on to this back and pulled Alice into his lap. "Here, lass. Lean back against me and sleep for a bit. You made us all proud today," he spoke softly into her ear.

Alice didn't hint at resistance, and murmured sleepily to him. "The Vorpal sword...it was destroyed."

"Aye, but now Chess and Mirana know what the beast is. They're already back at Marmoreal searching the tomes and gathering potions for tomorrow. They'll find the answer. Don't worry, love." He called to the Bandersnatch to return home, and he lumbered softly to allow Alice a peaceful journey.

Before Tarrant felt her slump against him, finally giving in to her exhaustion, he heard her whisper, "I like it when you call me that." Tarrant's heart soared. _Finally you return to me, love. _He kissed her lips softly and felt her snuggle closer in his arms, breathing deep and even in sleep.

_You may not yet love me, but you have feelings for me. And you accept that I love you. All is not lost, it cannot be. I need more time. We should be starting a life together, not fighting to save the kingdom. _

xXx

Back at Marmoreal, Mirana and Chessur searched the indexes Chessur had created for the texts. Entities with attributes like 'abyss', 'huge', 'dark', 'takes shape of a man.' Finding nothing definitive for Agingroth, they prayed he had simply overlooked a few creatures in the stacks of tomes, and went searching again by hand. They found hints about an immortal creature that traveled between worlds, but such little concrete information existed it, they couldn't be sure. Not that there was anything useful other than the stories of death and destruction he wrought, anyway. No firm description, no strengths and weaknesses, and certainly not a method of destroying or banishing the beast.

The lack of records could not be a coincidence, Mirana decided. He must have systematically worked to remove himself from the recorded history. And without solid information, they could not discover how to defeat it.

After putting Alice to bed, Tarrant came into the library. "Tell me you've found how to destroy the beast, Majesty."

Mirana sighed, a crack in her serene and etherial bearing forming as a tear slid down her cheek. "Hatter, I'm afraid not. There's nothing of use. A few tales, but nothing we can glean a method from." She closed her eyes, trying to pull a far-off memory from her mind.

"Chessur, you're _sure_ there are all the texts?" She queried suddenly.

"Yes. I've told you, liege. Again and again. There were all that were sent, all that could be found by your guards," Chessur snapped at Mirana, his frustration evident, appearing and disappearing with each clipped word, "all that were in the castle itself or in any known shop, library, or personal collection in your lands."

"And no one else would have had this kind of information...Wait!" Mirana cried. "Chessur!"

"Yeeees," he drawled, slowly turning through the air.

"Do you remember Chriton? The old wizard?"

He had died years ago, just after Alice had returned home from her first visit and about a year before Mirana's parents had passed away, leaving Marmoreal to her. He had always kept a number of particularly important volumes on magic which he refused to turn them over, for fear they would be captured by those who would use them for evil purposes should Marmoreal ever fall.

More than that, he had hidden even the location of his home. He had only emerged when he was needed by the kingdom. If only they could get access to his library.

"Quick, Chessur. Send a team of my royal guard to search for Chriton's home. Ask all the villages and towns in the realm. All the elders, someone must know something. It is our last hope."

Something felt wrong in Marmoreal, foreboding and dark. Mirana could feel it. They had just two more tries before Agingroth would destroy them all.


	12. Chapter 12

**I am a slurvish author. Horrible and lazy, with no real excuse for taking this long to update. I apologize to everyone. And this chapter is terribly short, but it _is_ a step forward. I think two more chapters, maybe three until the end of the story. To all those loyal readers who have not yet abandoned me for leaving you hanging, a most heart-felt thank you! **

**So bear with me, folks. I will do my best to keep this moving again, and not stall out again. In this chapter, Alice faces the Agingroth for a second time. As they say, third time's a charm. And in the case of Underland, the last and final hope for her to defeat the beast. Stay tuned next time for the final battle...**

**~Jade**

**xXxXx**

"_Quick, Chessur. Send a team of my royal guard to search for Chriton's home. Ask all the villages and towns in the realm. All the elders, someone must know something. It is our last hope."_

_Something felt wrong in Marmoreal, foreboding and dark. Mirana could feel it. They had just two more tries before Agingroth would destroy them all. _

xXx

The second morning of Underland's – no, Alice's – stand against Agingroth dawned a bit later than normal. In a bit of kindness and mercy Time had delayed the start of the day by an hour or so to allow Alice additional time to rest. The salves had healed most of her shallow cuts and bruises, and a good night's sleep had done much to rest her weary body. Her mind, however, was a different story.

Her dreams had been terrifying. Agingroth had been everywhere; not only on the battlefield, but in Marmoreal's halls, devouring everyone and everything in site. He had been at Witzend, completing the destruction the Jabberwocky had begun. He had even been in the woods just past Thackery's house where she had played during her trip as a child, ripping trees up by the roots in gusts of wind that pulled all life into the darkness. Her heart had broken at the site of her friends and companions falling victim to the abyss, all that was left of Tarrant's life being destroyed again, and the site of that grand redwood she had so cherished in her youth, all gone in seconds.

She stood before him again, armed to the teeth with every weapon she could bare by her side, the moment of the Vorpal sword's destruction haunting her, replaying in her mind again, and again. But this time, when Tarrant stepped in to her aid, Agingroth had not shoved him away. In her nightmares, he had used that wicked black blade to run him through, the jagged wound gaping, Tarrant's face contorted in a grimace of pain, his eyes meeting hers one last time before he collapsed.

"No! Tarrant...no!" Alice shot up in bed, drenched in sweat, tears falling down her face.

It had been a dream. Nothing but a horrible, terrifying dream. She prayed it was not a premonition.

Alice accepted the assistance of her handmaid-turned-squire without protest. _How can I beat this thing? His skill is far superior to my own. He's a magical being. I'm...I'm just a girl._

"Don't be lettin' yesterday's events draw ye down, Alice." The familiar burr caught Alice's attention immediately.

"Tarrant!" Alice broke away from her maid and ran to her Hatter, only one leg greaved and no shoes, almost knocking him over with an armor-weighted hug.

Despite surprise at her actions, Tarrant, held her tightly to him, wishing with all his might that he could be enjoying this embrace without the feel of cold steel encasing her body, and second, that he could go in her stead. "Alice..." he breathed. "You'll do well today. You held your own yesterday against an unknown. Today, you know who and what that creature is; we're one step closer. And if anyone can defeat it, it is absolutely Absolutely Alice, Champion of Underland."

Alice pulled away, fresh tears clinging to her lower lids, but a smile on her face. "Thank you, Tarrant. I needed to borrow a bit of your muchness today." Then realizing they had an audience, she coughed slightly, and stepped out of his arms.

"My sincerest apologies, Tarrant. I..." she paused, blushing a bit at her reaction to him, "...I had a horrible dream last night that the Agingroth killed you. I must have gotten a little carried away to see you alive this morning."

Tarrant beamed in return, not that she had suffered such a terrible fright in her dreams – Slumber had been most naughty last night! – but at her excitement to see him. Months ago, he had vowed to win her back. Training had, of course, taken precedent – couldn't very well have been distracting her from her training, now could he. But soon, in just two days, when Alice found a way to triumph over the beast, he felt his efforts to formally woo her may just face less resistance.

He bowed deeply, an action made less formal when accompanied with a broad smile and a wink. "No apologies needed, my Champion. A hug from the savior of Underland, the Queen's chosen knight, and a most beautiful one at that, is a most welcome greeting."

"I shall go fetch the Bandersnatch for you. Whenever you are ready, we will be waiting."

When Alice was dressed and ready, she found Mirana and Tarrant at the front gates, Tarrant's horse saddled and stomping restlessly next to Bandy. In her hands, Mirana held the Vorpal sword, whole once again thanks to the tireless efforts of Marmoreal's finest blacksmith, who had worked through the night to reconstitute it.

"I've doused this with the most potent protection potion I know. I know not the Agingroth's true power, but perhaps this will help." Mirana was uncharacteristically somber this morning, devoid of her usual levity, the burden of the day weighing even their monarch down. "I've also packed a satchel full of potions for you to try against him and provided a list of incantations to try. Godspeed, Alice."

"Thank you, Mirana." Alice embraced her friend and mounted up.

The ride was long and somber. Tarrant tried to share reassurances with the Champion whenever he could, a smile here and there, a bit of light conversation on how Weather was behaving himself remarkably well, given the circumstances, but nothing brought Alice out of her funk.

_Perhaps it is just as well,_ Tarrant later mused. _Just let her think, ye madman. Let the Champion prepare her mind, as you have prepared her body and spirit these past months. _

Iracebeth did not even await them this second morning. Knowing now that Agingroth would keep to his word and would not destroy Mirana's kingdom until the third day, she spared herself the additional proximity to the beast. Instead, Agingroth, once again in the form of the abyss, stood - or rather _existed – _before them.

Alice took a deep breath and dismounted from the Bandersnatch, scratching him comfortingly on the head. Her eyes met Tarrant's, which flashed between green and red, fighting the madness back from his mind. His hand hovered near the handle of the dirk on his belt, his great claymore once again conspicuously thrust into the ground near to his side.

"Are you ready to play again, Champion? I did have such fun yesterday." Agingroth mocked, his deep voice hollow and echoing from the darkness.

"What fun can it possibly be to fight me as a nothing_? _Face me as a man, Agingroth! I will see your true face when I destroy you." Her bravado evoked a chuckle from the darkness.

"Very well, Champion," he sneered. The man in black once again stepped out from the abyss, without the fanfare and pageantry of his initial appearance. His power had been demonstrated and the threat issued the day before; his power spoke for itself today.

"Give me your best shot. And make it entertaining. I will have to face you again tomorrow, and I'd rather not be bored with a repeat of yesterday." His large arms were folded across his chest, legs braced apart, blue eyes boring into Alice's.

In the pause before Alice began her attack, Agingroth sighed deeply, shifting his weight slightly. How he tired of this constant cycle. Devour a civilization, exist aimlessly, hunger growing, until he was called again, then spend three days fighting whatever champion he was directed at. Eternally bound to this sequence of events, eternally bound to the Maleficium. As long as that book existed, he would have but three days at a time to live as a man, to experience the world, but forced to destroy it all the same.

Admittedly, at first, he enjoyed his fate immensely. The power, the feeling of invincibility, the immortality. But after two millennia, he realized the hopelessness of his condition. At least he could have fun occasionally; when he faced a champion with promise, with skill and heart, he at least enjoyed the fight.

Alice, the chosen Champion, foretold in the still-blank-in-the-future-Oraculum, stood before him, a satchel over her shoulder. She pulled out a bottle of green liquid, spoke a short incantation, and threw it at him with all her strength. A purple fire raged over Agingroth's body for a moment, his eyes a mix of shock and laughter, but it was too-soon extinguished. Realizing that potion had failed, Alice moved on to the next, and the one after that., a rapid succession of explosions and smoke. But none did more than flare and fail, time after time.

"Ah, that's what you're after, then, my dear?" A rumbling laugh fills the battlefield as he reverts into the abyss. "Your potions, like flies, are nothing more than an irritation to me."

Alice tried again and again. Ice from a vile hit him, frozen water vapor forming a frozen fog around them; it seemed to freeze the air that was sucked in, snow falling inside the abyss for a bit. Yet another failure.

Bottled lightning. Nothing. Incantations don't work, either. Mirana's mightiest paralyzing spell did nothing but temporarily slow the swirl of light and matter being pulled in. Try after try, Alice endeavors. They work, but as soon as they are sucked into the abyss, he rebounds quickly.

He laughs, dark and menacing. But also with very real enjoyment. This has surprised him again! The girl certainly has spirit. This is the most fun he's had in his duties in three generations.

Seeing Alice is out of potions, that she's leafed through everything in her book, Agingroth returned once again to human form. A smile on his face, eyes dancing. With only three days, he chooses to stand as a man as much as possible.

Struggling against panic that none of Mirana's potions or incantations did more than irritate the Agingroth, Alice commenced once again in a sword fight against her foe with the reconstituted Vorpal blade.

Tarrant stood by never allowing his Alice to get so far from him that he'd be unable to jump into the fight again. Watching Alice fight be beast was testing his resolve. For seconds, he'd find himself lost in the madness, pure fury welling up inside him as the beast struck against Alice time after time, swirling around in a veritable dance along the battlefield. However, the observation that Agingroth was doing nothing more than playing with Alice kept him from falling irreversibly over that edge. As they had see the day before, should he chose to do her serious harm, he had to do naught by bring that black blade down upon the Vorpal sword hard enough to break it.

Alice thrusts, turns in to a slash meant to get past his blocks. She steps to the side as he strikes, keeping her feet mobile, careful to stay out of the aggression line, using every tactic she had drilled with Tarrant during their training. But as he did the day before, Agingroth swats her away easily, suffering only the smallest cuts, and rarely at that.

"You can't be without vulnerability," she spoke, more to herself than to the beast. Getting back up, Alice slowed. The weight of the armor was wearing her out, its bulk restricting her movement. Against her better judgment, she stopped, panting heavily, and began to remove the plates, leaving only her heavy cloth jerkin and leather leggings as protection.

"Nay, Alice! Ye've got ta stay strong, proctectin' yerself from it!" Tarrant called to her desperately. Alice staunchly ignored Tarrant, instead focusing on Agingroth, who in a surprisingly sporting fashion, was allowing her to rid herself of the armor without an attack. Her mind knew better than to take such a risk, but she felt he would honor the bargain; the true day of reckoning would not be until tomorrow. Until then, Agingroth would not kill her, despire her best efforts to destroy him. It was an gentlemen's agreement of sorts, contrasting starkly with the trial of life and death being waged.

Now lighter and more agile, Alice tried a new tack. No more all-out assaults. In and out. Quick, precise, strategic strikes. First, at his stomach, then his chest, his neck, to his side. Seeking his a soft spot or some indication he was weaker in one area than another.

Her sword stung him once, twice, a third time. As the Vorpal blade rebounded off his, it went quickly, _snicker-snack _across his throat, a thin line of black blood welling. He hissed in pain, pulling back, bringing his hand to his throat.

For a moment, Alice thought she had made progress. He's in pain, he's bleeding at the neck!

Instead, she watched the wound, like every other, heal itself.

Agingroth was now greatly irritated. How dare this simple mortal sting him so? Had he not been sporting? Had he not spared her life when he could have destroyed her a hundred times? Now, it is getting annoyed with Alice. While none fatal, the wounds are numerous and are taking his power to heal. She's like an annoying fly, buzzing about him.

sHe stopped, sheathed his sword and took a breath. _You forget, old man. While this is all there is to your life, she's fighting to protect hers. _He almost wished he didn't have to kill her. Almost.

"I have another day, Champion, before I destroy your precious Marmoreal. I had thought to allow you to live all three days, I did so enjoy your sparring. However, I have grown weary of your constant slashing and whatnot. Perhaps I will kill you and see what other interesting opponent chooses to face me tomorrow. You Underlandians have always been such fun."

With a battle cry, Agingroth drew his sword and ran at her. He lept the last few steps, his sword raised above his head, poised to strike straight down, through her pathetic Vorpal sword, but stopped short as blood-red eyes met his own.

Tarrant, always on guard for Alice, blocked her body with his own. His great claymore was no match, even for an aborted strike by Agingroth, and that wicked blade slashed deep across shoulder, across his chest.

A look of shock passes over Agingroth's face more a moment. He should kill the Outlander for this indiscretion. Two days in a row now, he's stepped in to protect the Champion. Once again, he willingly placed his own life in danger for her, as she was for her kingdom.

Agingtroth growled loudly and turned away. A series of deep breaths calms his rage.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, Madman. I have warned you once before not to interfere. One champion at a time, or I shall go against my own vows and kill you** all **before the end of the third day. I only hope you can impress me with something better tomorrow."

Agingroth sheathed his sword and stalked away, ignoring the admiration he felt for the man's courage. He almost remembered what it was to love. He would give the pair one more day together before the end came.

Alice stood at Tarrant's side, in shock. Agingroth had spared Tarrant's life, she knew.

Together, they limp off the field. Tears fill her eyes as she thinks about the danger he faced for her and the danger she's put him in by allowing him to accompany her to the battle. The sun was setting as they pulled the salve and bandages from her satchel.

"You won't be able to pull that trick a third time, Hatter," Alice scolds. "This cut is far too deep for you to fight again." Watching him carefully, she removed the torn, blood-soaked shirt, and softly spread salve over the cut and bandaged it carefully. Had Mirana not packed this healing paste, his injurious would have undoubtedly required stitches.

"Alice, I couldn't do less. I couldn't have stood by and watched him kill you."

The sincerity and tenderness in his voice touched her, as did the gentleness of his hands as he wrapped her swollen wrist and the ankle that pained her.

They rose, limping towards their mounts, when Tarrant's hand grabbed her arm and pulled her back to him. "I'll do the same tomorrow, if it means sparing your life. When this is over, you were to return again to your world. If it comes down to it tomorrow, you'll do just that." Tarrant pressed a vial of purple liquid into her hand. "Take this. The last vile of Jabberwocky blood. If the Agingroth..." he paused, hesitating. "If things look to be going badly for you tomorrow, drink this. I'll take your place as Champion, and you go back above. This is not your land. These are not your people. This will not be your death."

"Tarrant..."

"Just do it, Alice. You will not die here," He barked, eyes red, the purple around his eyes growing darker and larger, vaulted himself onto his horse. "Let's go. You need a good dinner and some rest."

Tarrant knows she can't win this next day. Neither can he. He couldn't give her her memories back, he couldn't train her well enough to win, he's a failure. The anger he felt at himself simmered, threatening to boil over.

But maybe...maybe if he gave her one more day to remember! The last hope is one more day of searching.

His mind was racing, planning, plotting. He knew what he had to do. He only wished he would have time to tell her goodbye.

Tarrant didn't know if there was a great creator, this God that Alice had spoken of, nor if he would ever see her in the hereafter, but he hoped. And he believed in Alice. And that would be enough.


	13. Chapter 13

**Greetings, all! Hope you enjoy this next chapter - it is filled with AlicexTarrant warm and fuzzies and the next step in facing the Agingroth. Rating changed to M for sexual content. Not fully explicit, but hopefully just enough to keep people (myself included) happy.  
**

**Thanks to all who have stuck with me through this story, and for the reviews, favorites, and alerts. Hooray! :) ****Probably two more chapters to go!**

**~Jade **

**xXx**

_But maybe...maybe if he gave her one more day to remember! The last hope is one more day of searching._

_His mind was racing, planning, plotting. He knew what he had to do. He only wished he would have time to tell her goodbye._

_Tarrant didn't know if there was a great creator, this God that Alice had spoken of, nor if he would ever see her in the hereafter, but he hoped. And he believed in Alice. And that would be enough._

**xXxXx **

Morning and Daylight were still tucked away in their beds, with Night ruling the skies for hours yet, when Tarrant quietly dressed in his best kilt and jacket. If he was going to die today, he would make his Outlandish kin proud, and don his clan's colors proudly. His favorite cravat was around his neck, although looking a might sickly. The gravity of his task weighed heavily on him.

Mirana, Chessur, Alice and Tarrant had spent hours following dinner scouring every last piece of paper in the Marmoreal's library that Chesur had previously catalogued. Still nothing. And Mirana's guards had failed once again to locate any further tomes. Mirana had been convinced the old wizard Chriton's sanctuary would hold the key, but that, too had not been located. With every available text in Mirana's kingdom and many of her allied kingdoms searched and researched, it was the only logical conclusion. Not that having to fight for existence against a swirling abyss was entirely logical, of course. Unfortunately, it seemed to everyone that any knowledge of its location had passed away with him.

After dinner, Tarrant had talked Alice into joining him for some herbal tea. They were both weary and sore, so they relaxed on the couches in his chambers, sipping her favorite calming blend and indulging in sweet treats provided from Thackery's kitchen. Her torn and dirty jerkin had been replaced with loose woolen trousers and a fresh tunic, discarded reminders of the day past and the one before them.

The name Agingroth and of Failure were not once uttered. Instead, they had spoken of happy times and of future plans, Alice still yearning for the last memories of Underland that remained just out of her grasp to return to her.

The physical strain of two days of fighting were just too much for Alice to bear, and she soon nodded off in the middle of a story about she and her sister. Tarrant had just asked what she planned to do when she was reunited with Margaret after this last, and hopefully final, call to save Underland, when he noticed her head fall forward onto her chest.

Now, Alice lay sleeping soundly in his bed, Tarrant having carried her from the sitting room into his bedroom proper. He dared not take her further down the hall into her own rooms, for fear of disturbing her sleep. She had a big day tomorrow, and needed every wink Sleep would allow.

Her duty was to_ think_. Solve the puzzle, figure out how to beat the beast. The Oraculum had chosen her as Underland's champion for a reason. Just as the Oraculum had been created by the forces of good in Underland to balance the power of Evil's Maleficium, Alice's good had to be a match for Agingroth's bad. If Justice had any remaining sway in the universe, Alice was more powerful than the beast. Agingroth was bound to the Maleficium by magic and fought because he was driven by the book. Alice, on the other hand, fought willingly; she battled out of dedication, of friendship, of love.

As he had told Alice earlier, he would not let her die for his land, and he knew just how he would guarantee that. He had already obtained the Bandersnatch's assistance; Bandy, always loyal and protective of Alice, had agreed to carry Tarrant to the battlefield in the wee hours, far earlier than Alice would awaken. Tarrant's own horse was to lead his brethren far from the castle grounds, leaving Alice no way to arrive at the field. The Bandersnatch would refuse to carry Alice, giving her maximum time to discover the solution, and minimum time to get killed. If she cannot get to the battlefield, she cannot die, Tarrant reasoned.

Agingroth had accepted that Marmoreal could only have a champion at a time; its intent was to give the kingdom three chances, should the original knight fall on the first day. Tarrant meant to take that decision away from his Alice. He would not have her sacrifice her young life for them. She had an Aboveland to return to. If this world was to be destroyed, he would not have her destroyed with it.

_No! _he scolded himself. _Ye canna lose faith in yer Alice. She'll figure this out. She's tha CHAMPION o'Underland. She was CHOSEN to fight this thing. Ye only hae' ta give her a wee bit more time, ye Madman. _

While he believed in his heart that she would triumph, his mind had not left him at ease until he had a backup plan ready. Visions of Alice run through by that wicked blade of Agingroth's had haunted him horribly for days, threatening to push him over the edge, lose himself to the madness time and again. And he had almost let the madness take him. Consumed by madness, he would not suffer the worry, the anxiety. But he did not abandon his duty to Alice. Should things end badly and the Agingroth come for Marmoreal, Mally had been persuaded to direct her to drink the Jabberwocky blood, returning her to the Above.

This is the third day. Agingroth gives but three tries; a generous number, Tarrant admits. Realizing that the Agingroth would more than likely kill him for his insolence in taking the Champion's place, and holding no illusions that the injuries he had suffered yesterday were fully healed, Tarrant turned to take in the sight of Alice one last time.

She looked so peaceful, so beautiful. Images of what their lives could have been danced before his eyes. _If only I knew was returning to you, my Alice. I cannot lose faith; you _will_ save Marmoreal.I will buy you enough time to finish your remembering. Maybe soon enough to save me as well. _

Alice was plagued with dreams; she tossed, turned, tried to settle her mind in pleasant dreams. No matter how hard her unconscious mind fought it, her dreams returned to the face of the Hatter- Tarrant – clad once again in his waistcoat and kilt on a battlefield. But this was not the Frabjous Day, the beast not the Jabberwock, and Tarrant was bleeding, angry red eyes slowly fading out. The darkness consumed her and a scream echoes in her mind.

Suddenly, she bolted upright, looking around, disoriented and shaking. It took her a few moments to realize where she was. Tarrant's chambers, his form just slipping quietly through the door – no! – dressed just as she saw him in her dream.

"Tarrant," she called, confusion and sleep warring each other for control over her body and mind. "Where are you going? What are you doing?"

Tarrant cursed to himself. If only he had moved faster.

He turned and brought his finger to his lips. "Ssssh, love. Go back to sleep. 'Tis naught but a dream."

Aaah, a dream. Just a dream, a nightmare of her Tarrant facing the darkness. Sleep pulls at her once again and she relaxes, dreams about to take her again. But something wasn't right, her mind is uneasy. Tarrant's scent was too strong, the pull she felt toward him too real. This couldn't be a dream. This was real, and he was leaving. No light peeked through the windows, yet he was bearing his claymore. _No!_ Her mind screamed. _This is wrong! Wake up! _

"Tarrant!"

His head fell; he had been called back. Concealing this was no longer an option, he must be truthful with her. If anything, she'll at least be better prepared for her task come daylight.

"You can't fight again, Alice. You haven't remembered yet what you need to, Memory is playing a horrible trick on you. Facing Agingroth without knowing...you could die before you remember. I...can't stand by and let you die." The words poured out of him, emotions driving him, the madness pressing in once again.

"I'll give you one more day in Underland to remember. While I am fighting, you can concentrate on remembering. The answer is in your head, it has to be. The answer is obviously not to kill it by the Vorpal sword, but none of Mirana's books have yielded any clues, either. Underland has chosen you for her champion again for a _reason_." He walked over to Alice, and held her hands in his. A moment lapsed before he spoke again as his eyes, caught between green and blue, gazing into her brown.

"You must hold the key within you. You have your muchness, you have your skill. You say you don't remember everything, we have scoured Underland, therefore the only place it makes any sense would be in your brain."

Alice isn't sure that is logic, but smiles. To a madman, that does make sense. In her time here, Tarrant has understood this world far better than anyone else, embracing the eccentricities of Underland, thriving in an unpredictable world. Perhaps he was right.

"Your memories have been coming back clearer and clearer, maybe today's memories will be of the answer. You need Time to figure this out, and we've bargained with him too much of late; there'll be no more reprieves from him. I know you can remember, Alice. I have faith in you." Tarrant's rough, calloused hand touched her cheek, trying desperately to burn the memory of the tender look she was gifting him with into his unstable mind. This is the face he would die for, the one which will give him strength as he faces the beast.

"You'll die, Tarrant." Alice's voice cracks, tears well in her eyes, and he grasps her hands in his once again.

"Aye, but I canna have you face it again for a world not your own. I couldna stand it if ye died trying to save us, and I hadn't done all in my power to save you."

"Don't go, Tarrant. Please don't do this." She pulls her hands free from his, and for a moment, panic seizes him. Every bit of self-consiousness he had ever felt invaded his mind. _She's not for you, madman. She's the Champion, so beautiful and strong, and you are naught but a crazed milliner, too old and flawed by far. She can't even stand the touch of your hands. _

Blue fades to yellow and progresses to orange in a heartbeat. Alice watches the panic in his eyes and reaches to place her hands on his chest. Using his own words against him, "'This is not your burden to bear,' Tarrant. It is not you in the Oraculum, it is me." The tears finally spill over, leaving a hot trail down her cheeks.

Unable to stand it any longer, Tarrant gathers her close in his arms, tucking her head beneath his chin, one hand entwined in her hair, one firm against her waist. "Why do you cry, lass? I'll give you this extra day. You'll solve the puzzle, you'll defeat the beast, save Underland once again, and you'll return back home. All will be well in your life. I promise I'll never fetch you from above to fight a great evil again, nor will I allow Mirana to do so. You've done more than any one should ever be asked to do. Underland can find a new Champion." He pauses, chuckles through the pain, "It'll no longer matter why a raven is like a writing desk."

He has such faith in her. Here he was, ready to sacrifice himself to spare her life. Again. This kind, funny, courageous man. A man with more dedication than she had even had to her father's company, his legacy. Tarrant had understood her when no one had, believed in her when others, incuding herself, had denied she was the right Alice. "I'd know you anywhere," he'd said.

Suddenly, shame filled her, followed by desperation. How could she have ever hesitated to return his declaration of love that day above? In her own fit of madness, she realizes she's made a rhyme.

How could she have betrayed the trust of someone who has so much in her? She had thought that he had just been overcome during that one moment, but every one of his actions, above or in Underland, proved otherwise. Their time together in London had been filled with happiness; sharing stories, walking in the gardens, hands intertwined comfortably. In Underland, his valiant efforts to protect her, his faith in her, those long nights holding her close, the slips of the tongue – how had she not seen what was happening?

And the truth struck her like lightning. She couldn't lose him. What would she be, if not by his side? Where would she be, if not in his arms?

She loved him, more than anything in this world or above. She belonged here, in Underland, by his side. There was nowhere else she would ever feel herself. He was her soul mate; he made her laugh, freed her mind, the shyness she had always felt around men was never present with him. Being in his arms felt like home.

"I love you, Tarrant." She blurted out, unable to contain herself until she could think of a better way; worried any more delay would see him turning back to the door. Hopeful brown eyes met his green, and she watched them flicker to blue, then deeper still to a midnight purple.

The last thing she had expected was a laugh, yet that was his response. No, not mocking. Something else. Regret? Sorrow? "Fine time to tell me, love."

"You told me once that you loved me. Was it the truth? Do you love me?"

"How could you ever doubt it, ma chroi?" _My heart. _His eyes faded back to blue, filled with sadness. "But it is too late. My duty now is not to love you, but to protect you from the beast." He turned away, moved to the door again.

"Wait," she called to him, her hand firmly pulling his arm, turning him back to her.

"At first I thought...well, I thought you might be courting me. "But then...when we were training in the woods, you kept yourself away. Never flirted like when we first came here, or when you first came to see me above." She blushed, embarrassment and desperation tangling her tongue. "I thought you didn't feel...but then... The only time I thought...you held me close at night. But even then, you were asleep, I couldn't tell if, maybe, you didn't actually..."

"Alice." He mimicked her blush and stopped her rambling. "You knew...you were awake? Naughty...I only kept away because had I been courting you, I wouldn't have been doing my job. It's not the place of a mad hatter to court a Champion, but yet you're so...you're so _Alice. _And I vowed to myself that I would win your heart, despite me being just a _me _and you being _so..._but with the training, I couldn't pay proper attention to that promise... I would have lost myself in impressing you, trying to sneak kisses. And once you allowed a kiss, I couldn't have stopped myself. We had a mission. I had to fulfill it."

"You couldn't have stopped yourself?" She breathed, eyes locked with his.

"Nay, the kiss we shared above was the most powerful, electrifying moment of my life." He was moving closer. "It shook my very soul. I almost lost all control, love."

Alice knew exactly that feeling. The spark followed by the feeling of...words couldn't quite describe it...but the _right_ of _completion._

"Then kiss me again, Tarrant. Kiss me again, electrify me. Give me the strength and power to face the Agingroth."

And for once, Time granted Tarrant a boon; he stood still for what felt like eternity as their lips met again.

Hesitancy and softness held them for only a moment, warmth melting their bodies together. Tarrant sighed deep against her mouth, surrendering finally to the feelings he had controlled for months. Then the warmth grew, expanding impossibly fast, a spark passing between them that left them trembling. Then suddenly, her hands were tangled in his wild, red hair, his arms clutching her close to him. Their mouths slanted over the other's again and again, desperate to drink in the other, surfacing only to draw in gasping breaths.

Somewhere in her mind, Alice could feel a shifting, but her conscious could focus on only one thing –Tarrant- and the miraculousness of finally admitting the truth to herself and to him.

The pure, unbridled joy pulsing through him like a current was all-consuming. He had never lost himself like this before, not even in the madness. For now, there was only Alice; her scent filled his senses, the feeling of her soft body pressed against his, the scrape of her teeth against his bottom lip. He spun her around, trapping her between the door and the length of his body. He drug his mouth from hers and rained wet kisses over her jaw, down her throat, his hands running up her sides.

"Tarrant," the moan that escaped from her, _his Alice _the most basal, masculine sense crowed, was the sweetest sound he could imagine. But it was also enough to bring him back to his senses. His hips were unabashedly pressed against her own, hands taking liberties on her body, having somehow found their way under her shirt and _most improperly!_ grasping her breasts. However wonderful her skin felt, he couldn't allow himself to continue.

"Alice! I'm sorry...I...this is _most unforgivable..._I lost m'self fer a ...please forgive me," he pleaded, accent thick, the purple of passion of his eyes flickering to blue in embarrassment, sadness, orange of panic, blue again.

Quickly stumbling back from her, Tarrant scrambled away before he lost control, the edge of the bed catching the backs of his knees, half falling over in his haste, gulping in deep breaths, hands suddenly feeling empty without her skin beneath them, body burning at the lost of hers against it.

Alice looked back at him curiously. Her eyes were wide, shock, confusion, and passion on her face. Her breathing was as labored as his. Tarrant was mortified, but she did not chastise him for his behavior, she did not hasten to straighten her disheveled clothing.

Instead, Tarrant watched as a great smile appeared and after a moment, she spoke. "And that, my dear Tarrant, is why I love you. A warrior, ready to fight my battles, to die for me, a madman lost in the moment, but gentleman enough to restrain yourself."

_Love! again, that glorious, wondrous, fabulous word! _Tarrant's heart nearly burst hearing it again.

She slowly closed the distance between them and sat down on the bed next to him. Smiling,Alice took his left hand in her own and turned it over, pressing soft kisses to his palm.

"If I fail, this is our last chance, Tarrant."

"Nay, ma chroi, you won't fail. I know it...you're The Alice, Champion of Underland, Slayer of the Jabberwocky. I'll buy you more time, and you'll..." Alice silenced him with a soft kiss.

Her hands pulled the waistcoat from his shoulders and had unbuttoned his shirt before Tarrant surfaced from bliss again. When Alice's hands touched his bare skin, a hiss escaped his lips, the feel of her against him almost too much to bare. "Alice..." he breathed, stilling her searching hands in his own.

"Shhh, love," she cooed, boldly watching his eyes has she ran her hands down his chest. Tarrant could feel her heart pounding, the muchness required for her actions.

"Alice...you don't...we don't have to..." he hesitated, though his fingers positively itched to mimic her actions, to pull the tunic over her head, run his hands over the smoothness of her skin, his tongue imagining what the taste of her...

He groaned at the tentative brush of her fingers at the waistband of his kilt and all his control was lost, a different type of madness consumed him.

"Tarrant!" Alice gasped as the tunic was suddenly gone and his kisses in the valley between her breasts, hands palming her softness, thumbs circling her nipples.

Before either of them knew it, they lay naked, bare before one another, his body braced over hers, Outlandish endearments whispered to her between kisses placed in the hollow beneath her ears. And when he settled between her thighs, the proof of his desire pressing against her wetness, their eyes locked again.

"I love ye, Alice," he spoke thickly. "I've loved ye fer so long, maybe forever." As he drove forward, inside her, she moaned, fleeting pain soon replaced with intense pleasure.

Alice was sure his madness had overtaken her, as well. All she could think about was the man looking down at her so lovingly, the weight of his body on hers, the feeling of him hard inside of her, the movement of their bodies, and their interlaced fingers.

When she felt as if she could take no more of his pleasure without exploding from the intensity, she cried out his name and tightened around him. The sound of his name on her lips and the sigh of pure pleasure that escaped from her next forced Tarrant over the edge as well.

Wrapped in each other's arms, Tarrant and Alice had found their home, their hearts as one. Her spirit was finally free; no more lies, no more concealments. A madman and a Champion, united as one, sharing tender kisses and sweet caresses, unwavering devotion spoken again and again.

Warm and content with the feel of Tarrant cradling her against him, Alice drifted again into sleep, her mind clear of the clutter that had plagued it since her last departure from Underland. Confidence in her love and her place in this world provided peace that nothing else could.

xXxXx

Alice found herself in the Tugley woods, running swiftly after a green butterfly, giggling as she went. What a fun game this was! Every time the butterfly turned a corner and was lost to her, she weaved her way in and out of the trees, jumping over roots and ducking under bushes. If she could find the secret tree, her friend would reward her with a cookie and praise her soundly for her sharp mind.

Six-year-old Alice Kingsley was immensely proud of herself for finding his house again. She did so love to visit; it was just like a tree house, but instead of a platform high in the canopy, when she pulled the right branch, the bark pulled away, revealing a great wooden door.

Inside, the aged Wizard would be waiting to tell her a story. She would sit in his lap as he spoke, allowing her to turn the pages of the dusty old books, delighting in the pictures. She didn't understand everything Chriton told her, nor could she read the stories herself, but she did her best to remember. Again and again he would quiz her on the names of potions, spells, and the characters.

"Now Alice, it is _very _important that you don't tell anyone any of these tales. They are a secret, just between you and me. Can you keep this secret?" Chriton smiled down at Alice, wiggling his great grey eyebrows and tickling her sides.

"Yes! I'm great with secrets! But why can't I tell? Hatter and Mirana would like these stories."

"Because, Alice. These are _your _stories. There are bad people out there who would use them and my books for evil purposes. We have to keep them a secret for as long as there are bad people out there or until you need them."

"But how will I know if I need them?" Her brown eyes looked questioningly into his slate grey.

"Because, my little lion-heart, that will be your job. Just as it was my job to collect the stories, it will be your job to use them."

"Oh." Alice squirmed in his lap. "Can I go now? Hatter told me tea would be soon and he'll teach me to Futterwacken."

Chriton laughed and set her down, sending her on her way. "Come back again soon, Alice. And never forget how proud I am of you."

The door to the tree-house shut behind her, and she opened her eyes to see the morning light breaking through the blinds.

She knew. She had remembered. _Finally. _Tears rolled swiftly down her cheeks. The freedom their love offered her mind had unlocked the knowledge she needed.

But now she has to GO! Scrambling to pull on her trousers, boots, thick padded jerkin, chest plate and gauntlets, she prayed she wasn't too late. She left the rest of her armour alone, this time, she hopefully wouldn't need to withstand hours of dueling. She grabbed the Vorpal sword, pulled her long hair back with a blue ribbon and was out the door.

She found the stables empty and the Bandersnatch gone. _Damn you, Tarrant, _she cursed. _I can't get to the battle, no, but I can't get to the books, either! _If only she could just will herself there...that's it!

"Chessur!" She yelled, frantically running back through the halls of Marmoreal. The Champion already donning her armor in the wee hours? Chessur's curiosity got the best of him and, despite his nature, came when called.

Alice quickly explained what was happening; where Tarrant had gone, where she must go, and what she must do. A cat with evaporating skills was just what she needed. Alice described to him the path through the Tugley Woods and the particular tree needed, and _poof! _They were there.

Just as she remembered, the great redwood loomed over her, two low-hanging branches the key to entrance. Instead of an inviting home with a table set for tea, Alice found Chriton's home covered in dust and eerily silent. But the bookshelves were blessedly still there, just as they had been in her childhood, undisturbed for years.

Quickly scanning the volumes, she pulled a thick tome bound with maroon leather from the shelf and tucked it under her arm. She had no need to open it to verify; she knew this was the key, just as she knew she would triumph this day.


	14. Chapter 14

**Second to the last chapter! The final confrontation between our Champion and the Agingroth. **

**A HUGE thanks to all who have continued to read this and hugs all around for those who have reviewed. It makes me feel wonderful that people are actually enjoying this :-)**

**Stay tuned (very shortly) for the last chapter!**

**~Jade  
**

xXxXx

_Quickly scanning the volumes, she pulled a thick tome bound with maroon leather from the shelf and tucked it under her arm. She had no need to open it to verify; she knew this was the key, just as she knew she would triumph this day._

xXxXx

Chessur evaporated them back to Marmoreal, straight into Mirana's library, where the Queen was waiting. News of the Champion's hurried departure this morning had already reached her, and Mirana held her breath in anticipation as they appeared before her.

"Mirana! The book! I've found it." Alice, clutching the book close to her chest, practically glowed with excitement and...something else, Mirana mused. Ah, yes. Though it had been years since she had seen that particular look about someone, she'd recognize Love anywhere.

She smiled broadly at her Champion. "I see you've discovered more than the missing book since I saw you last night, Alice." Mirana hugged her closely. "Too long you two denied your feelings."

Alice blushed a bit and coughed awkwardly, turning to the book.

She found the right passage quickly, fingers flipping through the chapters practically under their own accord. There, in the Wizard's steady hand, was the information they had sought for so long; details of what it was Underland was facing.

The Agingroth, the beast of chaos, is an ancient foe. Once a human war-lord, he had been bound by a warlock to the Maleficium, an evil volume that the Oraculum was created to balance out. The Maleficium had granted Agingroth the immense power he had sought after he lost his kingdom, but the curse had taken away his humanity; he no longer lived, died, ate, or slept as a man. Instead, he simply _existed_ in a state of darkness, hunger growing, until he was called by whoever held the book, able to sate his hunger only in the form of an abyss, by devouring that which was pulled into the darkness. After years of facing inferior opponents, Agingroth's ego led him to believe it was unstoppable. He now gives his opponents three tries to defeat him, usually doing little more than toying with them for something to beat the monotony before their inevitable demise.

While they now had more information than they had ever had about him, Alice still despaired. There was no way to defeat him outlined in the book. How can you defeat something that sucks every potion into it, affected by them only temporarily? Nothing Mirana had prepared for her the day before had phased Agingroth for more than a few seconds. But they _had _worked. **That's it! **

"Mirana, he continually feeds on light and matter. In the form of the abyss, it is not immune to magic, it just sucks magic in, then uses the light and matter to feed itself and grow strong enough again. We have to keep him from feeding after a potion is thrown at him and we can defeat him."

But h_ow? _Where is it dark enough to keep him from finding his food? Chriton's lessons on the night skies flooded her memory, including a theory by Pierre-Simon Laplace. "Space! It's not completely dark anywhere but _**in**_ one of those dark stars itself. That's it! Mirana? Can you direct a looking glass to anywhere you want? Can you direct it somewhere you've never been?"

"Yes, of course, Alice. But where..." Alice cut Mirana off sharply.

"Not now...just grab several bottles of pishalver and a hand-held looking glass." Alice paused only to call for Chess once again.

"Chessur! Please...take us to the battlefield!"

xXxXx

Appearing in a puff of smoke, Alice, Chessur, and Mirana surveyed the battlefield, afraid of what they'd find, prepared for the worst. Iracebeth, the Red Queen, stood by Agingroth, laughing at Tarrant, who was struggling even to stand. The Agingroth, barely winded, but sporting a shirt shredded from Tarrant's claymore, struck at Tarrant methodically, obviously wearing him down.

"Tarrant!" Alice sprinted to him, pumping her legs faster than she ever believed that she could, panicked at the blood-red color of his eyes which were fading fast. _No, NO, __**NO! **_The cold rush of fear and adrenaline washed over her as the worst possible situations raced through her mind.

Tarrant is trying desperately to stand against Agingroth, bravely-boldly-battling, barely holding together, badly injured. Just as he falls to the ground, he sees the beast bearing down on him.

_Alice! Have I bought you enough time? Are you here to save Underland? I'm so glad I told you that I loved you. _

Confusion sets in as darkness starts to settle in around him. _Is it already evening again? Has it been a day since I last touched her, held her, felt her soft-supple-silky skin beneath my hands, found love, life, laughter, by her side? _

He tries to speak as he sees her running towards him, but all that escapes his lips before he loses consciousness is "Alice, why is a raven..."

Crouched by Tarrant's side, Alice caressed the side of his face, brushing the hair from the side of his face, and tried to straighten his top hat on his head. She tryed in vain to staunch the bleeding from a deep gouge, but the edges of the wound from that damned black blade of the Agingrots were just too perfectly straight to close on their own.

Seeing Tarrant's blood coating her hands and the utter fear that filled her at the prospect of losing him, Alice finally understood the madness that plagued the Hatter for years. _Anger, loss, hatred, panic, sadness, sorrow_, give way to utter _**rage**_.

The _μῆνιν _empties her mind of everything but _destruction, must find revenge, must destroy, must avenge, __**now**_.

Alice rose up then, the entire world lost to her but the sight of the Agingroth. And should she have been able to see her eyes, she would have found them the same red as Tarrant's. She grasped the five vials of pishalver provided by Mirana from her satchel and hurled them at the beast.

In the form of a man, and thus more vulnerable to potions, Agingroth was surprised by the intense pain that struck him. Pishalver, when taken internally, was merely a bitter, vile substance; but when it came into contact with skin, it burned like fire. He let out a scream, wiping the substance from his skin, but he's shrinking, down and down, unable to transform back into the abyss fast enough.

Confused and incapable of processing what was happening to him, his normally smug mouth was agape in surprise and disbelief. _No! No simple potion can defeat me, they tried potions yesterday, what good will this do them today? _

And just as the shrinking stops, Alice leapt into action once again. "Now, Mirana! The looking glass!"

Mirana tossed her an oval looking glass and as the Champion uncloaked it, she called the location to the White Queen.

"Send him to the night sky, Mirana! Imagine the darkest, moonless, starless night. Imagine a great abyss at the center of that sky, darker than anything you've ever seen, an abyss so powerful that even light cannot escape."

With little flourish and only a few magical words, Mirana closed her eyes and Alice watched as the surface of the looking glass rippled, subtle waves emanating from the center, like a pebble breaking the surface of a pond. No longer was the Champion visible in the looking glass, but one of Laplace's dark stars.

Before the Agingroth could recover, transform himself into the abyss which allowed him to feed and regain strength from the surrounding matter, Alice rushed at his now-much-diminished form. She threw it to the ground by his feet, and, by Chance or by Fate, used a spinning kick Tarrant had taught her to knock him to his knees perfectly onto the looking glass.

Far slower than Alice felt comfortable with, the Agingroth began to sink.

As Agingroth realized what was happening to him, that he was being sucked into a looking glass and sent to who-knows-where, he struggled. But the looking glass was as powerful a force as quicksand; the more he writhed and fought against it, the quicker he disappeared into it.

In less than a minute, the Agingroth was gone, transported a million miles away. Tumbling out of nowhere into the cold silence of space, he cursed. Realizing that his cosmic equivalent, a dark star, that undeniable force that devoured matter just as he had for so many centuries, lay nearby, he finally admitted defeat. I

And strangely, as he felt the gravitational force start to pull against him, guiding him toward his end, he felt a sense of peace.

_Was this it? Would he finally be released from the curse? Finally free of the unrelenting hunger? Would the peace of death free him from the eternal restlessness and captivity? Perhaps I should thank you, Champion. _

Quiet descended upon the battlefield as shock settled over Iracebeth. Her eyes were wide, hands still clutching the Maleficium, body quaking. However, the shock did not last long. The Red Queen had not survived this long unable to react quickly and, driven by a sense of self-preservation, turned on her heel and ran back toward the woods lining the battlefield.

For Alice and Mirana, this day was not yet done, and Chessur watched questioningly as the White Queen stood by and watched Alice chase after her sister.

After months of intense martial training, Alice easily caught the Red Queen. Alice's nemesis had not even bothered to bring any kind of guard or protection with her to the battle, so confident of Agingroth's victory had she been.

With the tip of her blade placed against Iracebeth's throat, Alice turned to Mirana, hate and fire filling her eyes.

Mirana recognized the questioning look of her Champion. While she couldn't betray her oath not to harm living things, the death and destruction her sister had wrought time and again, was unforgivable. She inclined her head ever so slightly, then turned away.

Alice, the Champion of Underland, slayer of the Jabberwocky, saviour of Underland, hesitated for only a moment. Should she kill Iracebeth? She is, after all, unarmed. But no, even still consumed with pain, despair, rage, Alice would never be able to live with herself if she killed an unarmed person, particularly one untrained in combat and therefore completely unable to protect herself, regardless of the evil in her nature.

Instead, Alice tossed Tarrant's claymore to Iracebeth's feet. "Defend yourself, _Bluddy Behg Hid_."

A shocked and somewhat off-put Iracebeth stammers back at Alice. "But Um...I mean Alice, you cannot possibly expect me to..."

"Pick up the sword, Iracebeth. Or I shall cut you down where you stand." A very muchy Alice practically snarls at the Red Queen, hatred in her eyes at what she had done to Underland, her friends, Mirana, and to her Hatter.

But in the end, it takes Alice only two swipes of the Vorpal sword to knock the claymore from Iracebeth's hands, Tarrant's sword falling again at her feet. As if with a mind of its own – or was it the spirit of Underland's Champion reacting without leaving the bearer with the burden of a decision – the Vorpal blade went _snicker-snack_ and Iracebeth crumpled the ground, lifeless, no longer a threat to Underland.

And with that, Alice sheathed the Vorpal sword at her waist and returned to Tarrant, collapsing upon her knees at his side. One hand once again gently touched this side of his face, the other over his heart.

"You can't die!" Her voice was strained with anguish. "Please wake up, please."

Just as bidden, Tarrant's eyes fluttered open to reveal blue, unfocused orbs. "I'm glad I saw you once more before you went home, lass" his voice no more than a whisper.

"Home? I am home, Tarrant. My Hatter, my love. My home is where you are." Tears rolling down her face, Alice reached down to place a soft kiss on his lips.

"You are not going to leave me now, Tarrant, do you hear me? I will not become a widow before I become a wife."

Confusion set in again for Tarrant. _What?_ "Wife?" he manages.

That word – sending glory, joy, strength, shivers! - made him calm, warm, at peace. A smile graces his face before he passes out again. Alice's cry of anguish echoes through Underland.

xXxXx

Author's notes:

1. Don't fret...there will be more! I promise! And SOON!

2. Dark star was the early term for a black hole. First theorized by Englishman John Michell, then by french mathemetician Pierre-Simon Laplace, this is something that Alice could have, conceivably, been aware of. Particularly had she been tutored by a very wise Wizard who was helping her to fulfill her destiny! :)

_3. μῆνιν – _meaning rage or fury, is the first word of Homer's Iliad. Given that is the emotion that seems to drive most of this chapter, and as a former classicist, I couldn't resist.


	15. Chapter 15

Voila! The finale! Hope you all enjoyed! I had a blast writing it.

~Jade V. MacGregor

xXxXx

Thanks once again to Chessur's invaluable evaportating skills, Underland's favorite madman and milliner is transported without delay back to Marmoreal and into the care of Mirana.

She quickly stitched the gash in his side and covered the wound with the strongest pain and healing salves she has. Alice paced quietly at the food of the bed, eyes taking in every one of Mirana's movements, constantly assessing, evaluating, attuned to every twitch or subtle movement Tarrant made.

When it was over, and Tarrant's wounds were clean, stitched, and bandaged, Mirana was left with the unenviable task of facing the Champion and breaking the news.

Mirana took a deep breath and tried to gather as much muchness as the muchiest Underland Champion. She would need every ounce of strength to talk to Alice. In her heart, she knew what would happen, but it didn't prevent her mind from racing, nor worry from setting in.

"Alice, come sit with me for a moment." The two women crossed silently to the couch in the sitting area of Tarrant's chambers in Marmoreal and sat side by side, space between them, but knees almost touching.

Taking hold of Alice's hands, Mirana was struck by their differences, these two leaders of Underland. Alice was tan and fit, hands rough from the sword, body lithe and covered with lean muscle from her training. Mirana was pale, hands gentle and soft, more fit for potions than arms. Their wardrobes set them even further apart; Alice in breeches and a tunic, a sword constantly by her side, while Mirana still wore the white gown customary for Marmoreal's sovereign.

Alice was truly a warrior. And that was a blessing, for the fight was not yet over.

"Alice. I've healed Tarrant as much as I can. The wounds are clean and closed. But they were very deep and he lost a great deal of blood. No potion that I possess can fully restore him." Tears shown in her eyes; the pain she felt at her dear friend's injuries was great.

"He's a strong man. Tarrant has endured more in this life than anyone should have to. He's lost his family, his whole clan, and for a time, he had lost you again, as well. I fear that in this latest battle, he may be well on the way to losing his life."

"No!" Alice denied it. It couldn't be. "But Mirana, you've closed the wounds. He should heal with rest."

"The wounds were too deep. I cannot stitch that which is cut inside of him. And we may not have enough time left for his body to produce enough blood to account for what he's lost." Seeing that she needed to address this before the reality of the situation sank in to Alice, she continued.

"However, there's a chance that...Here in Underland we have...there's a spell. It may be his only chance." Mirana faltered, unsure how to express what needed to be said.

"Whatever it takes. I'll do whatever it takes. I love him, Mirana. I can't lose him."

"It is called the Halving. The magic removes half the injury from one close to death. But the magic is not strong enough to simply rid that person of their wounds; they must be transferred to another." Mirana dared eye contact with Alice. She could tell by the look on her face that she was starting to understand.

"Tarrant is too greatly hurt to heal on his own. Should he only have half that, he would heal fully and quickly." The catch, Mirana thought, there was always the catch with this particular spell. "The intent of the spell is to share life essence, one giving half their healed self, the other giving half their injury. However, it has the side effect of bonding the two together. Once the giving has occurred, there is not way to, well, give _back._ Once the two are so fully fused together, nothing can render them apart."

Alice's face was unreadable. Hope, confusion, wariness, tears. Which emotion would she settle on?

"What else is there, Mirana? What does this bonding mean?"

"In most cases, just a strong sense of kinship, togetherness. There really is no way better to describe it than a bond, a link between the two. Stronger than normal friendship or family tie. Unbreakable. But in your case..." Mirana paused again, searching Alice's face. "Tarrant had told me that he had arranged for you to return to your home should you not defeat the Agingroth. He wanted to send you above and keep you safe."

"I would not have left Underland, Mirana. I'm the Champion, I don't flee." A whisper of a memory passed over Alice. She remembered the day Tarrant had carried her upon his hat through the Tugley Wood, and she had told him that she didn't slay. The pain and anguish he had suffered in that place due to the Jabberwocky and she did not slay. The shame of that statement still tasted sour on her tongue.

"But are you prepared to stay now? Now that there is no need for Underland's Champion to fight for it? Your duty is done here, you can return to your family, to your world. Unless...unless you agree to the Halving."

Alice showed not outward reaction, waiting for Mirana to continue, but strangely, she felt nothing save relief at those words. How desperately she had longed to stay here. She loved her life on the seas, but she was keenly aware she could not spend the rest of her life out there. Even with the Company, there were obligations, requirements that would force her to return eventually to London and endure restrictive, boring life there. But she had not been asked to stay in Underland; it was not her place to seek citizenship in a land not her own without the request of its monarch.

"You mean, I would remain in Underland forever?"

"Yes, my dear." The Queen placed a soft hand on Alice's shoulder. "You are human. Tarrant is Underlandian. His family was once human, too, but the old wizard Chriton gifted them with transformation to allow them to stay here, become part of this world. No one is ever _part_ Underlandian. Once you Halved with an Underland being, you would become one, too."

"And Underland beings cannot live in my world." Alice said, understanding.

"Just as humans cannot stay here. You could, however visit you family from time to time. A few weeks above will be fine, but Underlandians aren't made for that world and are eventually called back home by the land."

"Of course I'll do it, Mirana. I could do nothing less than do everything in my power to save Tarrant. Even if I could never return above at all, it would be a pittance to save him. I love him. "

Alice's sincerity humbled Mirana. How she yearned to have someone with such commitment to her.

Mirana wasted no time in drawing a bit of blood from each into a small cup. In her alchemy lab, she hurried from cabinet to cabinet rummaging through stashes of ingredients, measuring, stirring, shaking, and mixing, finishing with a single drop of Jabberwocky blood. The transportability properties of the blood would allow the wounds to move from one to the other. Finally, a bit of sloth fur to bring sleep to the pair. They will need the time for their bodies to heal.

Returning to Tarrant's chamber, she handed the potion first to Alice to drink half, then spooned the other half into the Hatter's unconscious mouth.

Alice was shocked at how quickly the pain started, then an overwhelming need to sleep overcame her. Perched on the edge of Tarrant's bed, propriety be damned, she laid down next to him and succumbed slumber.

xXxXxXx

A full day later, Thackery was unable to contain himself. Mirana had told him should Alice and Hatter not wake by two days after taking the potion, she would wake them herself. Then and only then, despite his crazed and easily distracted rants, would they be available for tea.

"B...b...but the're missin' TEA!" he protested, quivering and pulling on his ears. Here it was Brillig and oh no, oh no, oh no! The Hatter without his tea!

"Thackery, they will be so very hungry when they finally awaken. How about you prepare them a proper supper? And we can have a meal with everyone to celebrate their recovery! I imagine dear Tarrant will even Futterwacken for us when he realizes the Champion will be staying with us for good!"

Thackery spend the rest of that day and the morning of the second baking and slicing, stuffing and grilling, mashing, mixing, flipping, rolling, just about every possible action that could happen in a kitchen. The kitchen was a gleeful riot, Underland at its best.

Down the hall, Tarrant's mind was spinning. Terrible dreams of a great black beast haunted him. He was run through with a wicked blade as Alice looked on, look of anguish on her face. But the end of the dream, ah that was a different story. For at the end, his Alice was at his side, and a magical word was echoing in his mind... "wife"...she had said.

Opening the door quietly, Mirana looked upon her Underland's Champion and her protector. Tarrant lay on his back with Alice curled up against his side, arm on his chest. It was how they had slumbered for the two days of healing after the Halving.

Whispering the softest of incantations, a gentle breeze swept through the chamber, their names traveling on the wind.

The Queen ducked out and let them wake together. She imagined they had a great deal to discuss. And Thackery could use the help finishing the preparations for the celebration feast. Indeed, what a celebration it was; the Agingroth defeated, Tarrant whole and hale, and Alice staying with them and with her love.

Alice was the first to sleepily open her eyes. She was warm and comfortable and could smell Tarrant's musky scent of felt and tea, his chest gently rising and falling under her hand. Her side was stiff but not painful.

The bond between them is strong, however, and as she came fully awake, he began to stir.

While Alice knew where she was and what had happened, Tarrant struggled to make sense of the situation. He was in his bedroom, in his bed, and in his arms felt something warm and soft and remarkably Alice-like.

And when their eyes finally met, he broke into an infectious grin.

"Alice, did you say wife..." he breathed.

"Yes, Tarrant. If you'll have me." She laughed and kissed him soundly, finally comfortable in their feelings for each other, free from the hesitations and uncertainties of the past months, the overhanging dread of evil now gone.

A life with infinite possibilities and happiness lay before them. It had only been a matter a memory.


End file.
